Through the Eyes of a Hawk
by wild-vixen
Summary: Jenny starts to dream at night that she's the hawk that becomes Tristan's closest companion. She soon realises that it's no dream. Soon it takes over her life, and she can't think of anything else but him. Can she save Tristan?
1. Chapter 1

Okay, this is another one of the stories that just wouldn't get out of my head, so I had to write it.

SUMMARY: Jenny is a teenage girl who is desperately unhappy with her life. At night, she starts to dream that she is a hawk - the hawk that becomes Tristan's closest companion. Before long, she starts to realise that it is no dream, that she somehow does become the hawk. She sees what makes Tristan become so quiet and reserved. Can she change his fate, or will he die despite all her attempts to save him from his greatest enemy - himself?

Please review.

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24/1/08: Well, I was reading this story on my computer the other day and spotted all these mistakes that made me want to die with shame - so I'll be going through the chapters, editing parts. Thanks to everyone who continues to read this long after it has been updated.

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'Hey, Jenny, are you coming to Ben's party tomorrow?'

I looked up and met Linden's blue eyes. I shook my head, fighting back a desire to scowl.

'No, I wasn't invited.'

He raised an eyebrow, and I wished for the hundredth time that I was going.

'And Conrad's party tonight?'

Again, I shook my head. I had to work hard to stop myself from glaring.

'Not invited.'

This time he raised both eyebrows. 'I thought you'd be invited to both – or at least Ben's.'

I shrugged, not trusting myself to answer without my voice catching. I knew that Ben, Conrad and the others didn't really like me. They just let me hang around with them because my best friend, Rachel, is going out with Ben.

Thankfully the bell rang then. At last it was the end of the day – and we were free to go home. It was the weekend, but it stretched bleakly ahead of me, boring and uneventful compared to everyone else's.

'See ya, Jenny,' Rachel said, hugging me.

I hugged her back and grinned. 'See you on Monday.'

She smiled and walked off to Ben who slung his arm around her shoulders. I heard them talking of the party to come, the party I wasn't invited to.

With a sigh I shouldered my school bag and started the long walk to the bus. Hayley waved as I went past, and I waved back, but I was running late and didn't stop to talk.

I reached the bus and got on, paying my fare and validating my ticket. The acrid stench of the petrol fumes made my head hurt as I took my customary seat – one of the single ones on the middle of the bus.

I'm not a very social person – largely I prefer to be with animals rather than other people. I spend most of my time with my horse, a twelve year old Morgan mare. She's black with a white star, and has the sweetest temperament – as long as she's in a good mood. If she isn't, she's a real demon.

I call her Ebony, not that it makes any real difference to her. I'd like to be able to say that we have a mutual bond and all that, but we don't. Often she bites, often I growl at her, and she doesn't seem to really care if I'm there or not. But I love her, and she doesn't hate me, so we get along well enough.

Luckily for me, the first bus stop is the one closest to my house, so I get off before I can start to feel too lonely.

As I walk home, I reflect on my life. It's pretty dismal.

I'm an only child, I'm fourteen, in year 8 at school – and have a horse. That's about the extent of my life, and it's pretty bad really. I don't go out a lot – my friends often go to parties and things on Friday and Saturday nights, but not me. I'm never invited.

Yeah, I know. It's pretty sad. But hey, that's my life, and there's nothing much I can do to change it.

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That night I dreamed.

I have a pretty wild imagination. Perhaps its because I often wish my life was different. In my dreams, I can have everything I don't have in real life. But this dream was different. It felt so real. I could smell the flowers nearby, I could hear birds singing and the leaves rustling in the wind. I could feel the sun on my back.

I was on ground. It felt wrong, I couldn't move properly – just hop a few steps before collapsing. The trees overhead looked very far away, and everything was in very sharp focus. It was like wearing glasses – I could see the texture of the bark beside me, I could see every last vein on the leaves above me.

I tried to call out – but I couldn't speak. Instead only chirping escaped my mouth. _Chirping? _What was I, a bird or something?

I tried to move my arms, but I didn't have any. Instead, wings fanned the air – _my wings _– and I clicked my beak in amusement. Yes, I was a bird.

All my bird instincts were telling me to go up, to the nest that I had fallen out of. I tried to fly, but I couldn't get off the ground. Apparently, in my dream I was only a young bird.

My acute hearing alerted me to something in the bushes nearby. There was a rustle – and out came a wolf, its ears pricked and its pale eyes trained on me with interest.

Okay, I knew this was a dream, but it seemed so real that I was really scared. I forgot that it was a dream – _I became the bird._

I flapped my wings and screeched. The wolf approached. It looked very big from down here on the ground. The teeth were very long and rather yellow as its tongue lolled out of its mouth. The beast came closer, and I screeched again.

Suddenly something flew over my head and into the wolf. It let out a howl of rage, turned, and fled. Something was sticking out of its shoulder – an arrow, my human brain supplied.

There was the sound of a very large, heavy animal approaching. I turned, and found myself staring a huge pair of boots. I looked up – and up, and up, until finally I reached the person's face.

He was about twenty-five, perhaps a little more. He had a curiously flat kind of face, with dark brown eyes and long dark hair that flopped forward. There were several braids, one with an iron ring.

He crouched down, and I took an ungainly hop backwards. He stretched out a hand towards me – and I pecked. I bit furiously, but he didn't withdraw.

His hand didn't move as I bit at it. At last I grew wary and backed off another step. His hand came forward again, and I again I attacked. This went on for a while, until at last he spoke.

'Steady, little bird.'

His voice was low with an appealing roughness. There was a strong accent, and it soothed me. I let my ruffled feathers lie flat again.

'Come with me. You'll die if you stay out here. Come with me.'

He held out his hand again. In it there was a chunk of meat. It smelled good – my animal brain said _eat it_. I reached forward, but he shook his head.

'You'll have to come with me if you want it,' he said. 'Come on.'

Willingly I hopped up to perch on his arm. I dug my talons in, and although it must've hurt he didn't make a sound. He offered me the meat – and I took it. It was raw, but it tasted better than anything I had ever had eaten as a human.

'Good girl,' he said softly, standing up. 'Good bird.'

I fluttered my wings as he stood, trying to keep my balance as he walked through the trees. He swung up onto his horse – I clicked my beak in protest as I nearly fell – and rode on at a walk.

He talked to me the whole time, softly and gently. He gave me more of the meat, until I learnt to eat from his hand without biting his fingers. At last I felt comfortable and relaxed enough to preen my feathers.

Already I was starting to feel an attachment to the man. He was quiet and gentle, and he didn't try to touch me too much. Once he tried to stroke my feathers, but I snapped at him and he retracted his hand quickly.

He rode his horse through a gate and into a courtyard. Another man came out with short brown hair. He took the horse's reins and peered at me. I snapped my beak in warning.

'A hawk, Tristan?' the man asked, raising an eyebrow. 'What are you going to do with it?'

The person who I was perched on shrugged. 'Don't know. Set her free when she's old enough, I suppose.'

The man nodded and led the horse away. Tristan walked to his room, carrying me through the fort. Hadrian's Wall was huge. There were Roman soldiers everywhere in red cloaks, patrolling or off duty. There were numerous buildings, but Tristan knew his way around. We were soon at his room.

Once inside he held his wrist beside the back of a chair, and I stepped off his arm onto the wooden seat. He smiled slightly, but I didn't like having stone above me rather than the blue sky.

'Well, beautiful,' he said softly. 'You're going to have to stay here for a while until you're strong enough to survive in the wild.'

I clicked my beak, and he smiled. He ran a gentle finger down the back of my head and between my wings, stroking the soft feathers. I snapped, and he withdrew his hand quickly.

'Fiery, aren't you?' he whispered. 'Don't worry. I won't hurt you.'

Somehow comforted, I resumed preening my feathers. He went out, making sure that the window was closed. I tucked my head beneath my wing. The comforting smell of Tristan made me feel safe as I fell asleep.

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I woke as the golden light of early morning streamed through the curtains. I stretched, recalling the memories of the dream I had had last night. It had been a good one, about being a hawk. I remembered the scent of Tristan, the smell of the forest, horse and sweat mixed together. It had seemed so real.

I curiously sniffed my hair – traces of the scent lingered on me and my clothes. Suddenly I realised that in my mouth was the taste of the meat he had given me. I sucked in my breath sharply as my heart began to pound. How much of that dream had been real?


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the reviews! Especially to MWP for your ideas. Here's the next chapter.

I have another story going as well (the sequel to my first, Arthur's Assassin) so updates here might be a bit slow from now on.

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I went to sleep early the next night, hoping that I would have the same dream again. It took me a while to fall asleep, but when I did I became the hawk. It was so strange, having no arms and only wings. My senses were so much sharper, and I could fly – or at least, I would when I was bigger. 

I was on Tristan's shoulder. He was sitting at a table with several other men, all looking at least slightly younger than himself. Beside Tristan was another dark haired man, but his hair was short and curly. He had twinkling black eyes and a wickedly handsome grin. He looked to be a couple of years younger than the person I know thought of as master.

I could smell smoke from torches on the wall, mixing with the strangely comforting scent of Tristan. It was night time, the sky dark overhead. The tavern nearby was busy, with girls taking drinks to all the men.

An the other side of the table were two others. The dark haired one had longer hair that was curly and flopped over his face. His beard was just starting to grow, and his light brown eyes were bright. He was about sixteen or so.

Across from Tristan and beside the younger man was someone almost as old as my master. He had tawny hair tied up behind his head and dancing blue eyes. He drank deeply, eyeing a passing barmaid.

'Eyes off her, Gawain,' the man beside Tristan growled. 'She's mine.'

Gawain snorted into his drink and set his drink down. 'Really, Lancelot?' he asked, grinning. He called to the girl. 'Hey! Nadia!'

The girl walked over, flipping back her long black hair. 'Yes, handsome?' she asked flirtatiously. She sat on Gawain's lap and he grinned at Lancelot.

'Lancelot and I were disputing over who you prefer,' Gawain said, holding the girl on his lap.

'Why, you, of course!' Nadia laughed, throwing back her head and giving Gawain a quick kiss.

She winked at Lancelot as she got up. Galahad watched them with amusement. Tristan didn't say anything, but I felt his muscles tense under his shirt.

'Hey, Tristan,' Lancelot grinned, turning to him.

I ruffled my feathers and shifted uneasily. The other man was much too close for my liking.

'Are you ever going to ask Wenda to marry you?' he asked, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. 'Because if you don't, that means she's free… and you know how much she admires me…'

He grinned, obviously joking, and the other two laughed. I felt Tristan tense even further, although his voice and face were neutral.

'She's mine, Lancelot,' he said softly. 'Stay away from her.'

'I will,' Lancelot grinned, drinking deeply from his cup. 'But will she stay away from me?'

He laughed again with the other two, obviously still joking. Tristan didn't seem to find it funny.

I listened with interest. Obviously Lancelot was a great womaniser. He was very good looking, mmy human mind thought.Hang on… my human brain struggled to work in a bird's body. Lancelot, Gawain and Tristan… they were the names of Arthur's knights. The knights of the Round Table! I was dragged back to what was happening by Tristan.

He turned his head sharply, looking at a woman who had just entered. She was fair skinned, her hair a beautiful golden blonde that fell past her waist in a curling curtain. Her face was slightly sharp, and I didn't like her eyes. Her eyes were pale blue and colder than ice. She was not a woman to be trusted.

All the same, I felt a stab of jealousy. What wouldn't I give to have skin that colour, hair like that and a body to match? No doubt she would have long slim legs and a perfect build.

'Wenda,' Tristan called, a rare smile breaking out onto his face.

The woman gave a smile that made my feathers ruffle. She sat down between Tristan and Lancelot. Her blue eyes widened when she saw me.

'A pet bird!' she cooed. 'How pretty!'

She reached out to touch me. I snapped, my sharp beak tearing through the fragile white flesh of her finger. She shrieked and leant back, almost pushing Lancelot off the bench.

'It bites!' she said, her eyes wide as she stared at the blood welling around the gash. 'Tristan, that bird is horrible! Get rid of it!'

Tristan stood and I spread my wings slightly to balance. He gave a slight grin and an ironic bow that made me click my beak in anger as I almost fell.

'I'll take her away, Wenda,' he replied. 'I'll be back shortly.'

Wenda smiled prettily and waved her hand as if dismissing him. Tristan turned and walked into the cool darkness of the knight. He transferred me to his arm where he could look at me.

'What was that for, beautiful?' he whispered. 'Wenda's nice. I love her, we may be married eventually. You shouldn't harm her.'

I snapped my beak, wishing I could talk and tell him that Wenda was a snake, a serpent who shouldn't be trusted. I could see it in her eyes – she didn't truly love Tristan. She was using him.

Tristan put me on my perch in his room. He gave me fresh meat, which I ate hungrily before leaving. I called out urgently, trying to tell him not to go back to Wenda.

He just smiled and gave me a last piece of meat before closing the door behind him. I shifted on my perch, trying to get comfortable. I wanted to warn him not to trust Wenda. No matter what he did, she would betray him. It was plain to me, but to his sight she was just a beautiful woman that he thought he loved.

I woke in a panic. It was late at night – my clock said just after midnight. The taste of meat was in my mouth – raw meat. As a bird it had tasted wonderful – now it seemed disgusting.

I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I cleaned my teeth thoroughly, trying to get the horrible taste out of my mouth. That dream had seemed so real, and so had the one the night before. Was it possible that it had been real?

My heart was beating painfully fast. I lay back down in bed and tried to get back to sleep. Whatever else the dreams were, they were interesting. I wanted them to continue.

I woke and chirped sleepily as light spilled in the doorway. Tristan entered and shut the door, walking over to me. I stretched, expanding my wings and raising my head up.

'You're growing quickly,' Tristan whispered. I could smell the ale on his breath. 'Soon I'll be able to set you free.'

I clicked my beak. He smiled and got ready for bed. I didn't want to go back to sleep. For the rest of the night I watched Tristan, hopping around the room from perch to perch.

In the morning he woke early at dawn. He gave me more meat, then went off somewhere leaving me in the room. I tried out my wings, and found to my delight that I could almost fly. In a few more days I would be able to fly.

'Careful,' Tristan's voice came from the doorway. 'I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself in here.'

I flapped over to him, landing rather inelegantly on his arm. I made a rasping noise in the back of my throat, and he smiled.

'Come on,' he said. 'You can come with us.'

I settled better on his arm, noticing that he now wore a leather glove on his hand so my talons wouldn't cut into his skin. He left the building, threading his way through the mass of people around the fort. He went to the stable and the same man was holding his horse ready for him.

'Thanks, Jols,' Tristan said, taking the horse's reins.

'No problem,' Jols replied cheerfully. 'Safe journey.'

Tristan nodded as he swung into the saddle. I squawked as I was nearly thrown off his arm. I flapped my wings, trying to regain my balance as he grinned.

'Sorry, little bird,' he whispered.

He kicked the stallion into a canter and left the fort. I liked the open ground much better than being stuck in the fort amongst a lot of people. The wind whistled around my head as Tristan's stallion picked up his pace.

I wanted so much to fly, but I knew that I wasn't good enough yet. Tristan seemed preoccupied, checking for tracks as he galloped.

At last, around midday, he stopped in the shade of the trees. He offered the stallion a drink, then me from his cupped hand. I took a mouthful of water, then stretched my wings out. I wanted to fly, but Tristan seemed to know what I was intending.

'Don't try,' he said, taking a drink himself. 'You're not ready yet.'

I snapped my beak, but he just smiled and loosened the girth on the saddle. He sat down with me beside him and started to eat.

'You know, girl,' he said softly to me. 'I've been in service to Rome for twelve years. And I've got three more years before I can be free.' He looked like he was watching something no one else could see.

I chirped softly and flicked my wings, trying to communicate my sympathy. He smiled sadly.

'I've always been different,' he whispered. 'Always. I don't know why, but I have. The others know it too.'

He watched something far away before shaking his head. When he spoke again, his voice was strong and hard.

'I'm scouting,' he said to me. 'I'll return to the fort tomorrow and tell Arthur what I've found.' He frowned. 'Those bloody Woads are getting bolder every day. My news won't be good.'

He sighed restlessly and ran a hand down the back of my head. I snapped, and he jerked his hand away with a slight smile.

'I've always preferred animals,' he said, his face taking on the faraway look again. 'If you are good enough for them, they accept you. If you're not, then…'

He smiled slightly before his face went back to its normal indifferent mask.

'Enough talking,' he said, springing to his feet. 'Let's get going.'

Tristan tightened the stallion's girth and swung into the saddle, heading off at a fast trot. He stopped more often to look at the tracks, and often dismounted to follow the footprints for a while before returning to his horse.

I stayed perched on his arm, occasionally taking to the air when he stopped and dismounted. I was getting better at flying, and my progress was encouraging – but more often than not I ended up in an undignified heap on the ground.

At last it was evening, and I was tired out from trying to fly all day. Besides that, horseback was not the way for a bird to travel. I thought for a while that Tristan would simply continue on in the dark, but at last he halted in a thick patch of woodland.

He made no fire, but gave me fresh meat as he made his horse comfortable.

'A fire would alert every dam Woad in the forest where we are,' he said softly to me as he untacked the stallion. 'I could do without that kind of attention.'

I fluttered my wings, then settled more comfortably on the thick branch of a tree. I gave a last look at Tristan, who was eating salted meat as he brushed sweat out of his horse's coat. Then I tucked my head under my wing and fell asleep.

'Jenny! Jenny, get up!'

'Huh?' I asked sleepily, raising my head and yawning.

'It's past ten!' my mother scolded. 'You should have been up an hour ago.

'Yeah yeah,' I muttered as she left, closing the door.

Another night of becoming the hawk. It was Sunday morning. I got up and found that the muscles along my upper arms were sore and stiff.

Wonderful. Strained muscles from a night of flying. Of course I couldn't tell anyone that – who would believe me?


	3. Chapter 3

Thankyou to all my reviewers! this chapter wasquick to write, but I might not be sofast to update in the future because of the other story I'm currently writing. Anyway, please review!

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I was in bad mood by the afternoon. Ebony had kicked me while I was grooming her, then thrown a shoe while I was riding her. I had a large bruise on my leg.

Getting to sleep wasn't easy, because I couldn't lie on my side. Every time I did the pressure on the bruise was unbearable. At last, though, I fell asleep again and into my hawk body.

Tristan was riding at a walk through the forest. I was on his arm, but I just couldn't settle. I felt like I was being watched. I clicked my beak and ruffled my feathers, searching for the people I couldn't see.

'What's up, beautiful?' Tristan murmured, sliding a finger down my feathers.

I flapped my wings, and he raised his arm. I took off, struggling at first but eventually I sort of worked it out. I was still rather unco-ordinate at flying, but at last I was above the tree tops.

There was movement in the trees, on either side of Tristan. Movement so slight that I wasn't sure I had seen it. But then I dropped a little in the air and hovered. There were people, painted blue, hiding.

I screeched a warning and swooped down. Tristan understood as I hurtled past towards the men hiding. I almost collided with the trees, but managed to rise into the air enough to avoid the branches.

Tristan drew his sword, and the blue painted men ran at him, screaming war cries. They must be the Woads he had talked about.

The battle was brief but fierce. Tristan was outnumbered eight to one, but I helped as much as I could. I dived, raking my claws along the face of a man aiming a bow at my master. He screamed and dropped the bow, his hands covering his face.

Tristan was an efficient killer. He had a deadly grace with a sword – it was amazing watching him. Soon only he was left. His horse had blood splashed on his grey legs.

Hovering above, I couldn't help feel admiration and awe for Tristan's skills, yet at the same time a horror and revulsion that made me want to be sick. Men were dying below me on the ground – I had injured one badly, my claws tearing into his eyes.

My master dismounted and held out an arm for me. He whistled, and I slowly flew down. I wanted to go to him, to land on his arm, but I just couldn't. He was a killer. I think that I had already known that – Tristan had the look and air of a killer. Tristan seemed to understand why I wasn't landing on his arm.

'Please come down,' he said softly. 'Don't hate me for what I have to do. Please, beautiful, come down.'

That did it. I landed, none too elegantly, on his gloved arm. He gave a true smile of relief and gave me a piece of meat. I didn't really want to eat it after seeing men die right in front of my eyes, but I took it anyway. Tristan stroked my feathers, and for once I didn't snap back.

'Thankyou,' he whispered. 'You don't know how many people fear me for what I do.'

I clicked my beak, wishing I could talk. He smiled slightly before turning to the bodies of the Woads. All traces of gentleness was gone from his face as he surveyed the corpses.

Tristan gave a last look at the bodies before mounting his stallion. He turned the grey horse towards the fort and nudged him into a trot.

'Time to report to Arthur,' he said to me. 'Normally I'd search the area, but Arthur made it very clear that I was to return on time.'

I clicked my beak, happy just to be with him. Already Tristan had become more than a master. He was an ally, a person who I felt attached to. I don't know why, but Tristan made a sense of loyalty stir in me. I would follow him wherever he went, even if it were to the very gates of hell.

Tristan didn't speak the whole way back. He urged his stallion into a fast canter, and eventually the fort came into sight. I spread my wings a little, telling him I wanted to fly.

He smiled and lifted his arm quickly, helping me into the air. I was getting the hang of flying, although sometimes it still scared me when I looked down and saw the earth so far below me. At times like that, my bird and human minds seemed to war against each other. The human part of me screamed for me to get down, back to the ground – while the bird told me to fly, to swoop, to dive and hunt. The bird always won in the air.

I hovered over the fort as Tristan went inside and dismounted at the courtyard. Jols took his horse and Arthur came out. The two talked, and then went inside the fort. I saw Tristan look up at me, hovering in the sky. He nodded his head slightly, and I knew what he was doing.

He was releasing me. I was free to leave.

That night at the tavern Tristan was completely silent. A barmaid tried to flirt with him, but he just ignored her until she went away. He was moodily staring around, his face in a rather aggressive mask.

I was perched on a nearby roof, watching him. I didn't want to leave, but he hadn't seen me yet. Occasionally he would raise his head and glance around – he was looking for me, but hadn't seen me.

Lancelot was losing a game of dice as the two biggest knights walked in. The first had a huge scar down his sombre face, but for all of that he seemed kind enough. Gawain grinned when he saw them.

'Bors! Vanora's looking for you. Something about not minding a child properly…'

Bors paled and looked around. 'Dagonet, warn me if she comes, alright?'

His voice was loud, and I ruffled my feathers in irritation. I much preferred Tristan's quiet voice.

I watched as the other knights continued to drink, but Tristan only stared into his cup. At last I could stand it no longer. He looked so depressed, but at the same time so angry. I was about to fly down when Wenda made her appearance.

She was dressed in a black dress that barely covered her, setting off her golden hair and ivory skin. Her blue eyes were so cold that I didn't move. No doubt she was here to see Tristan, but I didn't want to be anywhere near her. My feathers ruffled as I twitched my wings irritably.

'Tristan!' she cooed, walking over to him.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek. He stood straighter, and I could see him smile. His eyes lit up, and I could hardly bear the look of love that came into his eyes.

I wanted to scream that she was evil, that she was a snake who couldn't be trusted – but even if I did, I doubted that he would listen. He was in love with her. He was the scout, he should be able to see that trickery and lies were underneath that pretty mask. But he was blinded by love.

I waited for her to leave, but she wasn't going anywhere yet. For the rest of the night she stayed with Tristan, talking and flirting at last I heard the words from her mouth that chilled me to the bone.

'Will you marry me, Tristan?' she purred seductively. 'Will you be mine forever, dark knight?'

I heard him answer yes. Rage build inside me. Wenda was a cow, a bitch… I wanted to screech and attack, to claw her pretty face off…

No, that wouldn't work. I couldn't let Tristan marry her. She would betray him, destroy him. Yet I could see the love in the man's eyes. If he saw of her betrayal before they married, would it destroy him just as much?

It was nearly midnight when Wenda left. Tristan looked after her, a slight smile on his face before sighing. He turned back to watching the other knights. He was leaning against the wall in the darkness. He still seemed depressed.

I flew down and landed beside him on a table. He jumped when he saw me, but then his face cracked into a grin. He held out his arm, and I willing stepped onto it.

'Came back, did you?' he whispered, smiling. 'I hoped you would. Does that mean you'll stay with me now?'

I clicked my beak and chirped. He smiled and I felt happier than I ever had before. I was with my master – the man who I held above all others.

My alarm clock woke me.

Groaning, I rolled over and turned it off. Those dreams about being a hawk were interesting, but they really deprived me of sleep.

I looked in the mirror and quickly looked away again with a grimace. There were shadows under my eyes and my auburn hair was wildly tangled. Wonderful. Somehow I knew the coming day of school would be hell.

'Jenny. Jenny! What's the _matter _with you?'

I snapped out of a daydream with a start at Rachel's annoyed voice. I looked around quickly, then back to my friend.

'You've been mumbling something about a guy called Tristan all day,' Rachel said exasperatedly. 'Mrs. James has told you off five times. What's going on?'

'Nothing,' I said, shaking my head slightly. 'I'm just not with it today, that's all.'

Rachel rolled her eyes and I sighed. It had been a long day, and the only thing to look forward to was once again becoming the hawk.

Tristan's dark eyes narrowed as he focused on the targe in front of him. He drew the string of his bow back and with deadly accuracy shot. The arrow joined a cluster of others in the centre of the target.

I clicked my beak from my perch on the fence. Galahad looked on with a slight twinge of envy evident in his face. He was a good archer, but no one was as good as Tristan.

He collected his arrows and walked over to where I perched on the fence. He held his arm out for me and I willingly stepped on. He smiled slightly as he watched Galahad take his place in front of the target.

'Well, beautiful,' he whispered to me. 'How do you feel about hunting?'

I clicked my beak and spread my wings a little. _Hunting. _The bird in me was eager and ready to go – the human part tried to refuse, but was overridden. Tristan grinned.

'Off you go, then.'

He threw his arm into the air and I took off. I noticed with a glint of triumph that I was getting better at flying. I rose into the air and rested on the current. I spotted movement in an open field outside the fort.

With excitement mounting I flew towards the green stretch of land. Flying as a bird was something wonderful, beyond anything else that I had known. There was no loud engine, no parachute, nothing but my wings and the air which carried me. It was, in a word, freedom.

I spotted the movement again, and spiralled lower. It was a rabbit, a large one, eating crops. The human part of me shrieked that I shouldn't kill, that I shouldn't take life – but I refused to listen. I dived.

The air whistled past as I hurtled downwards. The rabbit never knew what happened. In a moment it was dead, struck down by my claws, and I was rising into the air.

I brought my catch back to Tristan. He smiled and took the carcass as I landed on his arm. He ran a hand over my feathers and nodded approvingly.

'Nice, little one. You're a good hunter.'

The wild, unseeing eyes of the rabbit seemed to stare at me. Suddenly my human brain screamed that I was a murderer – I had killed! Admittedly, only a rabbit – but killing wasn't something I did every day.

I woke up, sat up straight in my bed and screamed.


	4. Chapter 4

I managed to do one last chapter on this before I go away on holidays :-). I probably won't be able to update again until after Christmas, but please review and tell me if it is worth continuing!

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Okay, maybe I was over reacting. It was just a rabbit – but waking and finding the still warm blood of a rabbit on my hands drove me a little crazy.

I ran to the bathroom and washed the blood off hurriedly. My parents burst in, their hair tousled and blinking sleepily.

'Jenny, what's going in?' my mother yawned.

'Nothing,' I muttered. 'Just a bad dream'

'Okay.' Dad yawned widely, covering his mouth with his hand. 'Next time, try not to scream will you?'

I nodded and they left, muttering about lost sleep. My wildly beating heart slowly calmed until it no longer felt like I was about to drop dead. I turned the light off in the bathroom and went back to my own room.

I stayed awake for a long time. I couldn't forget the feel of my talons driving through the skin and fur into the flesh underneath. The scent of blood wouldn't leave, neither would the taste of it. At last I fell into a fitful doze, but didn't dream again that night.

The next day at school I was tired and sleepy – and when I'm tired, I become grumpy.

By the end of the day, I had snapped at Rachel no less than fourteen times, bitten Linden's head off (not literally, of course) over a missing pen and yelled at a teacher. Not one of my best days.

On top of the fact that I was now feeling guilty about how I had treated my friends, I had a Friday detention as well. An hour and a half of picking up rubbish on Friday afternoon. Wonderful.

Expectably, my parents weren't impressed. They yelled at me for a bit, saying things like "I never would have done that when I was at school". All in all it was a pretty bad day. All I had to look forward to was the now normal dream of becoming the hawk.

I think that my parents are starting to become suspicious. I've taken to going to bed early in the hope of spending more time as a hawk and less time as a human. But tonight my parents realised how tired I was (might have something to do with the fact that I fell asleep over dinner).

Tristan smiled. It was a rare sight, and the flickering light of the torches threw his face into shadow – where it wasn't obscured by his hair. I think that I was the only one who saw the smile. No, I was wrong. Someone else saw it as well. Wenda.

I felt my feathers ruffle and I couldn't help but hiss slightly. I couldn't help but notice that the air was colder and that they all looked slightly different – a few months older. Four or five perhaps. So time in this world wasn't the same as in my world.

The woman came up to Tristan and kissed his cheek. His dark eyes shone briefly before the usual mask once again covered his emotions.

'Looking forward to the wedding tomorrow?' she asked with a flirtatious smile.

I fluttered my wings from my perch on a chair besides Tristan as he slid an arm around her waist in answer. Wenda's pale eyes fastened on me and she frowned prettily in annoyance. Her look was one of pure dislike.

'Tristan, when will you get rid of that bird?' she asked. 'It's ugly.'

I clicked my beak in warning, spreading my wings to balance as I reached forward to bite her. Wenda pulled back with a soft scream.

'It's vicious!'

'Wenda, she's beautiful,' Tristan said softly. 'She only bites if you insult her or if she doesn't like you.'

'Get rid of it!' Wenda said shrilly, stamping her foot. 'Get rid of it, or I will not marry you!'

I screeched and flapped my wings hard, sending her hair flying back form her face in the draught. I was prepared to attack her, when Tristan's hand soothed down the feathers on the back of my neck. I quieted, but my hate for the snake in front of me deepened.

'I will set her free then,' Tristan said softly.

Wenda smiled, once again the happy little girl. Before she had looked like a spoilt princess stamping her foot – but now she was sweet as honey because Tristan would do as she asked. I couldn't quite believe that Tristan would send me away for Wenda. He took me on his arm and bowed his head slightly to her.

'Until tomorrow, Wenda,' he said softly.

She smiled her most winning smile, showing her perfect white teeth. Still the smile didn't reach her eyes, which were cold and shrewd.

Tristan left the tavern, me on his arm. He went part of the way to his room and then stopped in the shadows.

'Girl, you'll have to go,' he whispered, stroking my back. 'I'm going to marry Wenda. You've never liked her. Both of you would be happier if you left.'

I could hardly believe his words. I screeched and flapped my wings slightly. He seemed to understand what I was trying to say.

'You don't want to leave, do you?'

I clicked my beak and chirped softly. He smiled sadly.

'Yeah, I don't want you to leave either. But I love Wenda, and she loves me. I'm sorry, girl. Goodbye.'

He threw his arm up, and out of habit I took off into the night. I still couldn't quite believe this was happening as I soared in a circle above him. Tristan was casting me off – throwing me out to make way for Wenda.

Anger built in me. I wheeled lower and could see his face as he watched me fly. I screeched angrily, and I saw his shoulders move as he sighed. I turned away into the cold darkness of the night.

Less than an hour later my anger was gone. I wasn't going to let Tristan marry Wenda – she was a snake, and he deserved better than her. I knew that she was hiding something – something she didn't want Tristan to know. I wanted to reveal her for the snake that she was.

I flew back to the tavern and perched on the roof to watch. Tristan and Wenda were in the shadows. She was unmistakable with that hair. She and the dark scout were sitting together, talking quietly, sometimes kissing. I felt my feathers ruffle in loathing.

At last Wenda stood and left with a beautiful smile that never reached her eyes. She left, gliding away into the shadows. I followed silently over head.

She wandered around the streets for a while, not going back to her room. I knew that something was up. She kept checking for followers, furtively glancing over her shoulder every now and again. She never saw me as she slipped inside a door – a door that I knew was one of many where Roman soldiers slept when not on duty.

I fluttered down to land awkwardly on path outside the door. My talons were not made for walking or landing on the ground. I could hear muffled voices from inside.

'At last, Wenda. What kept you?'

Wenda laughed, and it was a sound that made my feathers stand up. It was cold and mirthless with derision that made me shudder.

'The stupid Sarmatian dog kept me.'

The Roman laughed. 'Still deluded, is he?'

Again Wenda's cold laugh came through the closed doors. I spread my wings slightly to keep my balance as I hopped a little closer.

'Completely. Still, once I've gone through with that bloody wedding I can kill him when I'm in his bed.'

'Then we can leave here and go back to Rome.' The Roman's voice was full of pleasure. Obviously he was looking forward to returning to Rome.

I had heard enough. I spread my wings fully and took of as quietly as I could. Taking off from the ground was hard work, and I felt the strain in my wings. At last, though, I was in the air and flying back to Tristan.

He looked up and couldn't suppress a grin as I landed in front of him. He was sitting with the other knights, slicing an apple with his knife.

'Couldn't stay away, huh?' he said softly, stroking the soft feathers on my chest.

I clicked my beak urgently and spread my wings a little as I hopped towards the exit Wenda had taken. Tristan frowned slightly.

'What is it, hey?' he whispered, sitting up a little straighter.

'Looks like your bird wants to show you something,' Bors grunted through his tankard of ale.

Tristan stood as I screeched loudly. I flew up and led him through the streets. All the time he followed silently, his face in a slightly amused expression. At last I found the door I was looking for.

I paused as I landed on the ground. I had to do this – I had to show Tristan that Wenda was nothing more than a treacherous bitch. But if I did, how deeply would it hurt him? I had seen his eyes when he looked at her. He loved her, loved her a great deal.

But he had to see this. I couldn't let his wedding go ahead now that I had found out Wenda's treachery. Tristan bent down to kneel beside me.

'What is it, girl?' he asked softly.

I hopped towards the door. When I reached it I scratched at it with a forefoot. Tristan nodded and reached forward to open the door. I flapped my wings hard to reach his shoulder.

The door wasn't locked and swung open. There were startled gasps from inside. Tristan's eyes widened in shock, horror and fury as he saw what was within.

By the light of a single flickering lamp, the naked bodies of Wenda and the Roman soldier were clearly visible. They lay entangled on the bed, their faces aghast. The Roman stared, but Wenda started to scream and shriek.

'Get him off!' she cried, slapping at the Roman. 'He raped me, Tristan! Thank the Gods you've saved me!'

I felt Tristan pause. The hurt was evident in his eyes, but there was something else. He _wanted _to believe what Wenda had said. He glanced at me – I don't think he thought that I would be able to clear things up, but I did.

I flapped forward and landed in front of them. Wenda screamed and leant back against the wall, throwing her hands up. I leapt forward and grabbed her hand in my beak. She shrieked, but I'd found what I wanted.

I dragged the ring off her finger and tossed it towards Tristan with a flick of my beak. He bent down woodenly and picked it up, turning it around in the faint light. It was a gold band with three scarlet rubies set in deeply. I saw Tristan's mouth tighten. He knew that Wenda was playing him false.

'This is not the one I gave you,' he said softly, his eyes beginning to burn.

Wenda's face twisted. It changed from pretty horror and fright to pure hate. It made her ugly beyond all limits as she stood up and wrapped a cloak around her.

'I hate you, Sarmatian. Since you spoiled my lovely plan to kill you tomorrow nigh, I'll have to do it now!'

She leapt forwards, in her hand a steel dagger. Tristan was still clutching the ring and didn't move to defend himself. I leapt up from the floor with a screech. The sound seemed to jolt Tristan out of his trance as I raked at Wenda's legs with my claws and beak.

She shrieked again. I was really starting to hate that sound. Tristan knocked the blade from her hand easily. He grabbed her wrists in a crushing hold. She whimpered, the only expression on her face now was fear as Tristan slammed her into the wall. He held her there with one hand and turned to me.

His face was oddly strange. He was pained more by Wenda's treachery than by any wound he had ever received in battle.

'Get Arthur,' he snapped.

I gladly took off into the night. Tristan didn't seem to question the fact that I understood every word he said.

Arthur and his knights were still in the tavern, despite the late hours. They looked up as I dived down and landed on the back of a chair with a low call. Bors swallowed a mouthful of ale and looked at me, confused.

'Shouldn't you be with Tristan?' he asked, his words slurred.

I tugged on Arthur's shirt, chirping low in my throat. He turned to me and watched as I flapped my wings and snapped my beak. I tugged on his shirt again and he stood with a sigh.

'I think she wants us to follow her.'

Bors was too drunk to get up without Vanora's help. He sank back into his chair. Galahad, Gawain and Lancelot came with Arthur, as did Dagonet.

I led them to the house and found Wenda backed up against the wall, Tristan's sword at her throat. The Roman lay dead, his throat cut and his chest torn open.

'Tristan, what is going on?' Arthur asked, aghast.

Lancelot stared, unable to believe what he was seeing. Tristan, holding his future wife at sword point? Then he took in the dead Roman, and he frowned as things became clearer.

I took a look at the Roman. It was a horrible sight, and I averted my eyes. I had never really wished to see the heart and lungs of a human.

Suddenly everything faded, and I opened my eyes. It was dawn, and I was at home in my bed.

As I got up, I couldn't help but wonder how Tristan was feeling – and whether he now hated me for what I had done. The look in his eyes had been that of a man betrayed and hurt so deeply that he could never love or care again.


	5. Chapter 5

Back from holidays:) Sorry, but this chapter is rather dull... the next one will have more action in it!

Thanks to all my reviewers! if you don't review, I don't write - so please review!

merry christmas!

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The next night I was almost afraid to go to sleep. What if Tristan blamed me for showing him the truth about Wenda? 

I was probably worrying needlessly, but the other life I led at night was starting to become more important to me than my normal one. Tristan was quickly becoming the thing my thoughts focused on when I was bored – I couldn't help but think about him.

Tristan stood at the window in his room with me on his arm. He was stroking the feathers on my back as he stared out the window, his face strangely empty. His eyes were so obviously hurt that I wished I could comfort him with words. He turned to me and sighed.

'Thank you,' he whispered. I knew how much those words cost him. 'You showed me what she truly was.'

I chirped softly as he turned back to the window. Wenda's betrayal had hurt him very deeply, and he was quiet even for him.

'I was stupid enough to send you away,' he whispered, his hand still running down the sleek feathers on my back. 'I'll never do that again. You're free to fly as you will – but come back to me, baby. I don't think I could stand it if you left as well.'

His voice cracked slightly as he said the last. I had never expected Tristan to talk like this. He sounded desperately unhappy and alone. I reached out and touched his cheek with my beak. He smiled sadly at me.

'You're all I have now, girl,' he murmured. 'Don't leave me.'

He set his face as he looked out at the pale tinge in the sky that announced the arrival of dawn. I looked at his eyes. I could see the hardness there. He had always been distant from the others – he didn't feel as deeply as the other knights about some things and kept to himself more. But now there was something else.

Tristan didn't care any more. He didn't love anybody, didn't want to. He didn't want love or care from another person – he wanted to vent his anger and hurt on the world. And he would – he would kill and kill until his own life was taken. Then he turned to me, and I saw that I was mistaken. I was the only thing, besides perhaps his horse, that I truly cared about.

'I'm glad you're with me, girl,' he said softly.

It was then that I swore to myself that I would never leave him. Never.

A couple of nights later, and once again time had skipped forwards. I was on Tristan's arm in the tavern when Gawain mentioned their remaining length of service to Rome.

'Only two years now,' he said with a grin, taking a mouthful of ale.

So a year had passed since Tristan had taken me from the forest. He had recovered somewhat from the madness that had descended on him when Wenda had betrayed him.

I had seen what Tristan had done to Wenda – and it wasn't pretty. The Roman he had simply cut down with his sword – admittedly in a rather painful manner. But not Wenda.

He cut her hair off, so that she was as bald as an egg. Then he bound her hands together behind her back before mounting his horse. He had made her walk to the side, tied to his saddle. He knew her weaknesses, knew that shaming her would hurt her more than a quick death.

He took her to the middle of a forest thickly inhabited by Woads. They didn't show their faces when Tristan was around, but both of us knew they were close by watching us.

Tristan used his sword to cut Wenda's dress off her – removing her shoes in the process. He cut the rope that secured her to his saddle and turned his horse around.

'Wait!' she had screamed after him. 'You can't leave me here! I'll freeze!'

'Worse than that,' Tristan had muttered to me.

He didn't turn around as he nudged his horse into a canter. I took off into the air, hovering over the clearing. Wenda had flopped down on the grass having a royal tantrum – but there was no one to care for her now. She saw me through tear-clouded eyes and picked up a stone.

'Stupid bird!' she shrieked, hurling the stone at me. 'It's all your fault!'

The stone hadn't come anywhere near me. It was then that the Woad warriors made their appearance. Wenda, still in her crying fit, hadn't noticed them until they had their arrows aimed firmly at her bare chest where her heart was.

I stayed just long enough to see that she wasn't going to be able to talk her way out of this predicament before turning and searching for Tristan. He whistled and I swooped down to land on his arm. By now I had the hang of flying, and it was easy to land and take off.

'She's dead, huh?' he asked, giving me a piece of meat.

I clicked my beak and flapped my wings once. He took it as an affirmative. There was a gleam of savage victory in his eyes – something that was more beast than human. Then it was gone and his face was in its usual mask.

I chirped happily as he continued on at a canter. Finally, the business with Wenda was over.

But what I didn't know was that Tristan would never quite recover from her betrayal.

It became apparent over time that Tristan had changed. He was even more withdrawn and indifferent, hardly seeming to care if his fellow knights lived or died.

Even when Kay, one of the oldest knights died, Tristan hardly said a word. He simply watched as he was buried, his face sombre but his eyes calm. The other knights gathered in the tavern to drink and try to forget their sorrows, but Tristan didn't join them.

I remained perched on his shoulder as Tristan wandered the dark alleys of the fort. He didn't make a sound as he moved through the darkness. I glanced at his face, and couldn't help but think that he was good-looking – in a sort of dark, unwashed way.

Almost immediately I shook my head, ruffling my feathers. I didn't want to think about Tristan that way. He was more than a friend – he was someone who I couldn't help but follow.

Never before had I felt such loyalty towards anything. Even Ebony, who I was fiercely protective of, didn't stir such devotion. I would follow Tristan to hell and back – and when I say that, I mean it.

Tristan glanced at me and I saw by the slight lightening of his eyes that he was glad I was with him. He raised his arm I willingly transferred from his shoulder to his gloved hand. He paused in the shadows, leaning his back against the wall.

'I have to scout again,' he said softly, giving me a piece of salted meat. 'You coming?'

I clicked my beak and stretched my wings. He looked at me, his face blank but his eyes intense. He ran a hand down my back between my wings, and lifted his arm.

I took off into the cool dark air. I could hear the other knights talking loudly in the tavern, but Tristan was standing in the shadows watching me. His black eyes gleamed in the moonlight as I soared into the shadows of the night.

Rachel asked me a few awkward questions the next day.

'Who is this Tristan guy you talk about all the time?' she asked, her eyes alight with interest.

Have I mentioned that Rachel is one of the prettiest girls in my year level? She has hair so dark that it seems black, although in sunlight you can see that it's brown. Her eyes are a light brown flecked with green, and she has long black eyelashes.

Being her best friend is hard – I'm really plain in comparison to her, and all the guys rave about how "hot" she is behind her back. Besides which, she has an insatiably curious nature.

'He's just a man I know,' I said, hastily bending over my English work.

I had said completely the wrong thing.

'"Man"?' Rachel asked, grinning. 'Are you sure he's not too old for you?'

I shook my head in impatience. 'It's not like that,' I said irritably. 'He's…'

How do you describe me and Tristan? I couldn't very well say that I'm his half-tamed bird. For one, Rachel wouldn't believe me. She also might think that I'm completely insane. Then again, I might be. Dreaming that I'm a bird every night can't be normal.

'Will I get to meet him?' Rachel asked, not put off at all.

I shrugged. 'He's not a very social person.'

That at least was completely true. Rachel started to say something else, but just then Mr. Robertson slammed a book down on the table beside us, making her jump.

'Girls!' he barked, his flabby face rather red. 'How many times must I tell you to stop talking?'

The first time that I had ever been grateful for a teacher's reprimand. Rachel glanced at me and rolled her eyes. I grinned and went back to my essay.

Time played another of its weird tricks that night. It seemed that I had skipped forwards about half a year from when I was last with Tristan. He looked no different, but I noticed that Vanora had a new baby. How she managed to look after all ten of her children, I don't know.

'Hunt for me, girl,' Tristan said softly, raising his arm.

I took off into the air. A light rain had begun to fall, the beads of water clinging to my feathers. I glanced down at Tristan, standing in the shadows at the edge of the tavern. Bors was avoiding Vanora and Arthur was deep in conversation with Lancelot.

I soared away into the evening. The sun was setting, sending a pale glow over the land. Now was the time when rabbits would come out to feed – now and early dawn.

I hovered high over the green fields. My excellent eyesight helped me to pick out several small brown shapes far below. As one hopped away, I saw the flash of white from its tail. My human mind wondered indifferently why rabbits had white tails. It made them easy to spot as soon as they moved.

I picked a target as I drifted lower in the sky. The air beneath my wings rocked me slightly, and I dived. I kept my wings close to my body as I hurtled down. It was better than any rollercoaster ride.

I extended my talons as I neared the ground. Too late, the rabbits looked up and scattered. I flapped my wings once, altering my course slightly. Then my talons were biting deep into the flesh of the rabbit as I pinned it to the ground.

It struggled for a moment and I tore cruelly at it with my beak – then it went limp and I rose up into the sky.

Getting up is always harder than landing, but with the extra weight of the rabbit it was even worse. For a moment I thought I wasn't going to be able to get into the air – then the air lifted me up and soon I was high in the sky.

As I soared back to Tristan, I wondered at the fact that I felt no revulsion for what I had just done. Somehow, killing had become part of me –part of the bird that I am.

I shook those disturbing thoughts out of my head and slowly flew down to Tristan's waiting arm. His murmured words of praise meant more to me than anything else in the world. I clicked my beak and let him take the bloody remains of the rabbit.

'Good girl,' Tristan said in a low voice, running a gentle finger over my feathered head.

As Vanora started singing and the firelight flickered over Tristan's face, I couldn't help but wish that I could stay with Tristan forever and not have to return to my real life.


	6. Chapter 6

Another slightly boring chapter, but soon Jenny is going to find her life has changed - drastically. Okay, please review because if I don't get reviews, I don't write!

That said, happy holdiays!

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'Ouch!'

Ebony snorted as if enjoying the show. I glared at her, nursing my bitten fingers. I sighed and bent down to pick up her hoof. She danced sideways, as much as the rope allowed.

I rolled my eyes and sighed again in irritation. I stepped up to her shoulder and ran my hand down her leg. She lifted her hoof up, then slammed it down again – on my foot.

I bit back a yell of anger and pain, glaring silently at the mare who I loved but sometimes drove me insane. She looked as if she were more interested in the grass nearby than me. I breathed deeply, trying to dispel the anger that was building inside me.

'Good girl,' I said softly, my tone soothing.

I tried to pick up her hoof again, but she swung her hindquarters around – knocking into me and almost pushing me over. I snapped.

'For the love of God, will you stand _still_!' Ebony flicked her ears curiously at me. 'For once in your life, horse, will you _please _stop moving around!'

Ebony yawned and looked away. I sighed and threw the hoof pick into a box. I undid her lead rope, grabbed the lunging rein and whip and headed outside. Ebony walked docilely beside me.

I couldn't help but think longingly of flying through the air as a hawk. Tristan never had trouble with _his_ horse.

'Only a year to go, girl,' Tristan said to me a week later.

I chirped and flicked my wings. We were once again in the tavern. The knights seem to spend more time drinking than they do fighting.

I watched as Lancelot yet again pulled a girl onto his lap. Gawain and Galahad were having a drinking competition, which Gawain seemed to be winning. Bors was holding his newest child while Vanora served ale and wine to the customers.

Tristan walked forward, out of the shadows and sat down beside Gawain as Galahad choked on his ale.

'Ha ha!' Gawain laughed drunkenly. 'That's a gold piece to me!'

Galahad groaned and flicked the coin to his friend. Tristan looked over at Lancelot who was sitting opposite him. The girl he was holding got up to get him another drink, and the attractive knight stretched his arms out with a grin.

'Still moping, Tristan?' he asked with a teasing grin. 'You should move on, you know.'

Tristan said nothing, but met Lancelot's eyes calmly. He continued to stroke the feathers on my back.

Lancelot was attractive, you have to give him that. He had dark curly hair that flopped over his forehead and dark eyes that were wicked and never stayed still. His little smirk, as irritating as it was, was something that few girls could resist.

'I mean, the bird must be a good companion – after all, it's a girl, isn't it?' He grinned, raising an eyebrow. 'But you should get out more, meet a few more girls. There's plenty of fish in the sea.'

I felt Tristan tense beneath the leather glove her wore. I hissed at Lancelot, opening my beak wide and spreading my wings in a threat. He laughed.

'Your bird wants to protect you, Tristan!' he laughed, then looked at me more closely. 'She seems to understand everything we say. What's her name?'

'She doesn't have one.'

Tristan's accented voice was low as he replied. Lancelot looked surprised.

'Why not?' he asked. 'She's a beautiful bird.'

Tristan shrugged. 'She has no name because she's free. Naming her would tame her, something I'll never do.'

Lancelot shrugged. As the girl came back with a jug of ale, he pulled her down onto his lap – spilling a little of the drink as he did so. Tristan sighed and stood, striding into the shadows once again.

I wanted to comfort him – but I couldn't speak, and even if I could there wasn't much I could say. I knew that he was still hurting from Wenda's betrayal. It irritated me that there was nothing I could do to cheer him up.

Tristan made his way to Hadrian's Wall and climbed the stairs to the walkway. He leant on the cold stone as rain fell, peppering my feathers with beads of water that gleamed in the moonlight.

He looked out over the deceptively calm and peaceful forest that was visible as a line of darkness on the horizon. Inside those forests, many clans of Woads lived – people that he fought and killed regularly.

'If only, girl,' Tristan whispered, patting me gently. 'If she hadn't done that… perhaps it was something I did…'

I knew that he was talking about Wenda – _again_. He never seemed to stop thinking about her. She had destroyed part of him, and for that I wanted to kill her – but she was killed by the Woads.

I bit Tristan's thumb. He didn't make a sound, but he jerked his hand back and looked at me with surprise written across his face. I clicked my beak angrily and flapped my wings hard, trying to tell him that it was not his fault that Wenda had been unfaithful. He sighed then, and smiled slightly.

'Alright, I get the point.'

I chirped happily and settled down again on his arm. He gave that half-smile again and rested his hand on my back. It was warm and heavy and he almost pushed me off his arm – not that he had meant to.

'I thank the Gods everyday I found you,' he said softly.

I reached up and ran my beak through his hair, trying to tell him how I felt. He smiled at me then, and it was his true smile that lit up his face. I would have smiled back, but as a bird it was kind of hard to do.

With the knowledge that I had helped Tristan, I woke up smiling in the morning.

Three nights later the knights were set another mission. It was met with loud grumbling from the men, who didn't like the idea of going beyond Hadrian's Wall.

'To the north, all we'll find is Woads,' Gawain said, slightly drunk.

Galahad, who was sober, agreed with a nod. Lancelot said nothing, but the look on his face was not cheerful. As always, Tristan hid his thoughts, but I was learning to read him.

I was starting to become familiar with Tristan, and I could now read his body language and the way his dark eyes flickered. He wasn't looking forward to this, but he knew that he had to go. There was no other way.

'Knights, our freedom is so close now,' Arthur said desperately, leaning forward on the table. 'So close-'

'Yes,' Lancelot broke his silence. 'So close. How many of us will fall short of our goal? How many of us will die, so close to freedom that we can almost taste it?'

I cringed slightly at his scathing tone. Lancelot was a womaniser, he could be funny, but underneath all that he was desperately unhappy in his life. Arthur looked like he was struggling to contain his temper.

'I know it, Lancelot!' he roared, unable to stop himself. 'Do you know how many nights I've lain awake, thinking of all those men I've lead to their deaths? It haunts me, Lancelot, and-'

'Then go pray,' Lancelot yelled back, standing up. 'Go pray to that bloody God of yours! Isn't that what you're supposed to do?'

The other knights watched, slightly sunned. They'd never seen Arthur and Lancelot fight like this before. Disagree, yes – but not this sort of burning rage. They waited in silence to see what would happen.

'Lancelot, I too am bound to Rome!' Arthur shouted. 'I too may die on this mission, and on the ones to come!'

Lancelot looked like his deepest desire was to run his sword through Arthur's throat.

'You are not enslaved!' he roared, his dark eyes so hot with anger that they seemed to scorch the air between himself and Arthur. 'You chose to become our commander! We are here until we die, Arthur! Or until our release from the tyrants, whichever comes first!'

Arthur looked angrier than I had ever seen him. I think that his anger was partly at himself – he knew that what Lancelot said was true. But that didn't mean he was about to back down.

'Lancelot, as your _commander _I _order _you to shut up and sit down!' Arthur bellowed.

He couldn't have chosen a worse thing to have said. The room went deathly still and silent. I could hear the beating of Tristan's heart from my perch on the empty chair beside him. Lancelot's face went white with fury.

'So that's it, is it Arthur?' he whispered. It was so quiet that everyone could hear me. 'You say that you understand, that you feel for us, that you're angry at Rome for their treatment of us. But underneath, you're still Roman. You can hide it all you like, Arthur, but you're a Roman, and always will be.'

Lancelot knew that it would hurt Arthur. But he didn't care. He kicked his chair away and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

The room was still and tense. Galahad started to rise from his chair to go after Lancelot, but Gawain restrained him with a hand on his friend's arm. Dagonet cleared his throat and shifted slightly. I could hardly stand the complete lack of noise. I shifted uneasily, and Tristan put out a hand to calm me.

'Knights,' Arthur's voice was low and rough. 'Go. Pack, and be ready by first light tomorrow.'

He turned and left by the door that led to his room – the one opposite to the one Lancelot had taken. The knights remained sitting where they were until Dagonet rose up.

'I suggest we do as he says,' he said in his calm, quiet voice.

He left, and the others followed one by one. Tristan was the last to leave. He held his arm out, and I stepped onto his gloved wrist.

Instead of going to his room, he went down the path that led to the tavern. He halted in the shadows, looking around. He obviously didn't find what he was looking for, and turned to me.

'Find Lancelot,' he whispered. 'Find him for me, girl.'

I spread my wings and took off as he lifted his arm, helping me into the air. I quickly gained altitude, and hovered above the fort. The bright light of the tavern was far below, but I could see very clearly with my hawk sight.

I searched for movement, and found it. I swooped low, only to find an old woman moving down an ally. I returned to the cool air above the fort, watching and waiting.

At last I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned and dived, gliding soundlessly through the air above the man's head. It was Lancelot – it's impossible to mistake him, really – no other man is as good looking as him – unless, of course, it's Tristan.

Lancelot didn't look up and he stamped along the grass at the base of Hadrian's Wall. I had seen enough, and I rose into the air to return to my master.

Tristan gave a slight smile when he saw me. He held out his arm, and I landed. I folded my wings in gracefully as he gave me a piece of meat. I chirped loudly when I had finished and he gave another smile.

'Lead me,' he murmured.

He lifted me into the air, and I flew low as I guided him through the fort. Tristan's eyes, almost as keen as my own, soon found the far distant figure of Lancelot. He broke into a run, soundlessly moving through the dark.

I increased my speed slightly to keep up with Tristan. Even running he was almost soundless, and Lancelot, who was still muttering and swearing to himself, didn't hear him.

'Alone, I see?' Tristan's voice startled Lancelot so badly that he jumped a foot in the air as he spun around. 'No bar wench tonight?'

Lancelot swore and put a hand over his chest.

'Shit Tristan, my heart almost stopped then,' he gasped, glaring.

Tristan's eyes gleamed with amusement. He said nothing, simply stood as Lancelot regained his breath. I perched on Hadrian's Wall, watching and listening.

'What are you doing here?' Lancelot said eventually. He sounded more tired than angry.

'Following you, of course,' Tristan said in his thickly accented voice. 'Making sure you don't do anything stupid.'

'As if I would,' Lancelot sneered.

Tristan raised one eyebrow, and Lancelot realised his mistake. He shrugged, giving a sigh that was half a laugh.

'Okay, so I would,' he said tiredly.

Lancelot leant against Hadrian's Wall with a sigh. His darker side was coming out in force tonight – there was no sparkle of humour, no little smirk on his face now.

'Arthur knows when he's made a mistake,' Tristan said quietly. 'He'll forgive you, Lancelot, if you will forgive him.'

'So Arthur sent you?' Lancelot asked aggressively.

Tristan met Lancelot's eyes. For a moment the two were locked, eye to eye, then Lancelot sighed and looked away.

'Alright, alright,' he muttered. 'I'll talk to Arthur in the morning.'

Tristan didn't say anything, just looked. Lancelot rolled his eyes.

'Okay, I'll talk to him now then!' Lancelot said exasperatedly. 'Where's that pigeon of yours, anyway?'

Tristan raised an eyebrow. I took offence to being called a pigeon as I silently took off. I dived down, and flew over the top of Lancelot's head – so close that my talons caught in the black curls. I screeched loudly, and he jumped in fright.

'Pigeon, is it?' Tristan asked evenly, holding out his arm.

I landed but didn't fold my wings in as I hissed at the other man. Lancelot swore, then laughed.

'That bird really seems more human than animal,' Lancelot said, rubbing his head where his hair had been torn out by my claws.

I laughed inside. Lancelot didn't know how true that statement was. But everything was about to change.


	7. Chapter 7

sorry for the long wait for this one. This chapter is just more rambling before the action starts. I know the bit about the tree falling is unlikely, but it was better than some ideas I had. Happy New Year, and please review!

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It was annoying when time yet again skipped forward a week or so later. It seemed that now Tristan and the others only had one more mission before their freedom was granted.

I was happy for them, but at the same time worried. I looked forward every night to going to sleep because I knew I would become the hawk. I'm not sure I could bear it if it stopped – or if Tristan died. I was starting to live in fear of that.

All of the knights were still alive, although Bors had a new scar on the top of his head. Tristan too looked a little worse for wear – I saw the large gaping red cut that needed to be sewn up by Vanora. It curved over his shoulder and down his chest, an ominous reminder of the dangerous life he led.

I realised that over time, I was becoming more and more attached to Tristan. I couldn't stop thinking of him, and it makes my face hot to admit that yes, I had a crush on him.

I couldn't help it, really. He was beautiful – his face underneath the hair that obscured it had some quality that I couldn't name, but it drew me to him. I couldn't help but wish that I was human, and that he loved me – but I knew that would never happen.

For some reason, I was in a really strange mood. I just couldn't stay still – I was restless and irritable. I even snapped at Tristan – _Tristan_, who I held above all others. He just shrugged and went back to sharpening his sword.

I shifted impatiently, already feeling guilty. I took off out the window, feeling Tristan's dark eyes burning into my back.

I flew fast towards the sea, following the currents of air. It was a clear, cool day, and it wasn't long before the blue expanse of water was visible. But there was something wrong.

Many, many ships were beached on the pale sand – and hundreds of armoured men were assembling on the cliffs above the beach. I swooped lower, already knowing that this was nothing good.

This was one of the most remote beaches in Britain. It was likely that this army would be discovered only by Woads until they started fighting – then Arthur would send scouts out.

I went as low as I could without drawing attention to myself. The man obviously in charge was the most frightening person I had ever seen. There was no mercy or compassion in his eyes – his voice was low and hoarse, and I could easily imagine it voicing orders for torture and death.

These people weren't Woads. Dressed in leather or animal furs, they reeked and didn't blend in with the land like the natives of Britain. _Saxon_. It had to be.

How was I going to tell the knights? They might already know of this, but I wanted to tell them that they were close – on our doorstep.

I flew down to the beach, hovering over the waves as I were an osprey, or sea eagle. I noticed a camp had been set up in front of some of the ships – obviously a small force was staying behind to guard their longboats.

_Fools,_ I thought. _Don't they know the tide will wash them away?_ The water on this beach came right up to the cliffs at high tide. The ships, anchored properly, weren't in danger – but the tents and people in them would be washed away if they remained sitting on the sand.

It was then that I knew how to tell Arthur about the Saxon. It would mean getting close to the Saxon – way too close. But I had to do it. I swooped, and in one claw picked up a dagger that the man had put on the ground. The men stood in surprise, and one shouted after me as I flew into the air.

There was the twang of bows and fear shot through me – fear that I might die. I dropped low in the air, feeling the arrows miss me, but not by much. I flew quickly out of range.

I went further down the beach, then dived again. In one talon I held the hilt of the dagger – in the other I picked up a sea shell. Then I turned, and used all my speed to get back to the fort.

Tristan looked up as I flew in. He stared as I dropped my burdens on his bed, then flew to my perch and landed. It had been a long flight, and I was unusually tired. I panted heavily as he examined the dagger.

'Saxon,' he breathed, tracing the runes etched on the blade. 'Where?' He picked up the sea shell .'At the shore?'

I croaked tiredly, and Tristan looked up. Concern was written on his usually emotionless face, and he hurriedly poured water into a bowl for me. I drank gratefully, and he stroked my back.

'Do you mean they are here, girl?' he asked, his voice low. 'Are you warning us?'

I chirped and clicked my beak. Tristan held out his arm and I stepped on. He took the dagger and sea shell and left the room with me on his wrist.

'Saxon?' Arthur's voice was strained. 'Already?'

Tristan nodded and put the dagger on the table. Lancelot leant over to look at it, and scratched his chin thoughtfully.

'How do we know they're here?' he asked suspiciously. 'I know the bird brought it in, but they could be anywhere.'

Tristan put the sea shell down beside the blade. Arthur smiled slightly, and Lancelot looked at me with renewed interest.

'I swear Tristan, that bird sometimes seems more human than not.'

I fluttered my wings tiredly. All I wanted really was to go to sleep, but I didn't feel safe enough to do so with so many people around.

'I had news that a massive Saxon invasion was coming,' Arthur said wearily, sitting down. 'But they've arrived. It's too soon. I don't think we can stop them.'

I shifted slightly on the chair beside Tristan. He seemed to sense what was bothering me, and held out his arm. I stepped on, and he held me close against his chest.

'Go to sleep, girl,' he whispered. 'I'll guard you.'

I buried my head under my wing, falling into sleep with the comforting scent of Tristan close around me.

Ebony tossed her head, speeding up into a trot. I reined her in firmly, back to a walk. She snorted and her ears flickered impatiently.

We were out on the trails, and the trees around us were tossing in the high wind. It crossed my mind for a moment that today might not be the best day to ride in the forest. The wind was so strong that the trees were bending sideways, and I heard a snap as a branch broke off somewhere to my left.

Then I asked Ebony for a canter, and forgot my worries in the exhilarating rush of power and speed. I was so absorbed in riding that I didn't hear or see the tree start to fall.

Suddenly Ebony shied to the side, and I looked up. I had the awful view of a massive tree trunk falling towards me. Believe me, until you have been under a huge eucalyptus tree that's falling, you don't realise just how big they are.

Then I was hit on the head, and I was knocked off Ebony. I saw her disappear back the way we had come, and couldn't help but feel glad that she wasn't about to pay the price for my foolishness.

Then the tree fell on me, and I had never felt so much pain. For a moment of intense pain I felt bones break, I felt myself being crushed. It was not a pleasant feeling, and if my jaw hadn't been struck by a massive branch I would have been screaming. I clenched my hands, wanting the pain to stop.

My vision swam and I heard a roaring noise in my ears. Then I was gone, falling through nothing into the dark.

I tried to scream, but all that came out was a screech. I heard someone nearby leap up, but I was beside myself with fear.

I screeched again and tried desperately to move. Then I felt hands holding me, and I fought even harder, slashing with beak and claws. Someone cursed, but I didn't realise who it was.

All I could think of was the tree, crushing and so heavy. Ebony, alone in the forest. I screeched again and tried to move my arms, but I had only wings.

I had to get out. Being inside was too much like being trapped under the tree. I launched myself out the window, falling a few feet before getting my wings to work.

I flew wildly for most of the night, and when dawn finally came I had no idea where I was. I perched on a branch, exhausted both physically and mentally. _What had happened_?

I remembered the tree well enough. A wave of guilt and shame shot through me as I realised that I must have attacked Tristan in the night. I hadn't been able to hear his voice, and I hadn't recognised him.

I wanted to go back, to apologise, but I was lost and tired. I fell asleep.

It was midday when I woke. I was still a hawk, when I had expected to become human again. Something wasn't making sense, but I stretched out my wings and took off.

My muscles were stiff after flying all night, but it wore off after a while. With the sun to guide me, I made my way back to Hadrian's Wall. Tristan and the other knights weren't there, so I went back to his room.

He had left the window open, with food and water ready for me. I took that as a sign that he wasn't angry. I felt deeply ashamed that I had attacked him.

I ate and drank a little, then flew back out the window. My heart leapt when I saw a familiar string of horsemen, heading back towards the fort with a caravan behind them. The caravan was blatantly Roman – who else would wear bright red cloaks, such easy targets for archers?

Tristan whistled, and I flew down to perch on his arm. He gave me a piece of meat, which I ate.

'Where you been, eh?' he ran a finger down my neck. 'Where you been?'

I chirped and ran my beak through his hair, trying to tell him I was sorry. He smiled – yes, he actually _smiled _– and gave me another piece of meat. I listened to the other men.

'What will you do Arthur, when you return to Rome?' Lancelot asked.

'Give thanks to God that I survived to see it.' Arthur met Lancelot's eyes.

'You and your God. You disturb me,' Lancelot said. I got the impression that he was only half joking.

'You should visit me,' Arthur said. Lancelot shrugged and looked away. 'It's a magnificent place, Rome. Ordered, civilised, advanced.'

'A breeding ground for arrogant fools,' Lancelot answered, still half smiling.

'The greatest minds in all the lands have come together in one sacred place, to help make mankind free.'

'And the women?' Lancelot asked, leaning forward with his evil smirk.

Arthur laughed and Tristan rested his hand on my back. I could still feel the warmth from his touch long after he had removed it.

It was later that afternoon, when I was half asleep, that it hit me. Why I hadn't become human again.

I opened my beak to screech, but shut it again. Arthur and the knights had just raised their cups and were drinking to the lives of those who had died. Once again they were sitting at their table, the round table which Arthur insisted made them equals.

I could think of only one reason why I was the hawk, and had not become human again. It was a crazy idea, but…

Was it possible that I had died under that tree?


	8. Chapter 8

hope the wait for this chapter wasn't too long, I had a bit of trouble writing this. also I'm working on another story which I haven't posted yet, so updates here may not be too fast in the future.

As always, thankyou to all my reviewers! without you this never would have been written. so thankyou again, and keep those reviews coming in!

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To my surprise, I didn't really feel upset. I was a bit sad, but if I was truthful with myself I knew that my life as a hawk was much more interesting. If only I could know that Ebony was safe, my new life would be perfect.

I was perched on a rafter when Arthur came into the tavern. I knew by the look on his face that his news was not good. By now I already knew that he rarely smiled, but even for him he looked grim.

I couldn't hear what he said, but I saw Galahad's reaction. He stepped towards Tristan as if to stab him, and I tensed. I was ready to swoop him, in fact I was about to take off, but Lancelot stepped between the two. I settled back down.

Tristan followed Dagonet, and I swooped down onto his arm. He ran a hand over my back, and I could feel the anger in his touch. Anger and resignation. He didn't want to go on this mission any more than the others did – but he knew the reality, knew that there was no escaping Roman law.

I perched on the stable door as he readied his gear for tomorrow. I could tell by the violence in his movements that he was furious. I hoped he didn't meet Arthur – Arthur would be the perfect target to vent his frustration and fury.

In fact, as Tristan was leaving a little later, he met Arthur entering the stable. I perched on Tristan's arm, waiting. There was a tense moment where the two locked eyes.

Despite Tristan's mellow words earlier, he was as angry as the others. Tristan's dark eyes gleamed in a way that I knew all too well, and his hand started to move for his dagger. I bit him swiftly, and he seemed to realise what he was doing.

Tristan turned and strode into the night. I watched Arthur, who looked grave and unhappy. The half Roman disappeared into the stables. Lancelot was not far behind as Tristan turned a corner.

He ran a finger over my head and down my back, saying thankyou without speaking. I nudged his hand affectionately as he made his way to Hadrian's Wall.

Tristan avoided the guards easily, staying out of the light and waiting until the Romans had passed before going up the steps. He looked out at the silent, dark land beyond the wall.

'We'll be out there tomorrow,' Tristan said softly, so that I had to lean forward to hear him. 'I can't help but wonder… was I supposed to die? Am I meant to die?'

You can imagine how surprised I was to hear him speaking like this. Tristan was one of the last people I'd have expected to start questioning whether death is predetermined. But he continued.

'I've killed so many. Life doesn't mean anything any more.'

I could feel fear gnawing at my insides. Tristan had to live… if he died, I would be devastated. He was my life now – all I had. I couldn't stand to lose him. He continued to look out over the wall, and as I glanced up I couldn't help but think him beautiful.

Beautiful isn't a word that some would use to describe Tristan. He washed once every fortnight or so, and his hair was always unkempt and hiding part of his face. But he was beautiful, underneath his slightly frightening demeanour.

I called softly, low in my throat, and he looked down at me. His dark eyes were bright, but not with happiness. He gave a small smile and patted me again.

'I take it you want me to live,' he said softly.

I nudged his hand again and he turned, silently leaving the wall and heading for his room. But as he walked I stared into his face and fear once again gripped me. Would Tristan die? I wasn't exaggerating when I said that I couldn't bear it if he did.

Tristan lifted me into the air before he mounted his horse. I hovered high above him, keeping watch. I tracked them as they pressed the horses hard, galloping for as long as the animals could keep the pace.

Around midday I left them to hunt, and it was evening before I rejoined them. Once again it was raining, and I landed on a low branch. The water gathered along the branch fell in a shower of droplets as I landed, which fell onto Gawain's face. He moaned.

'Ugh, I can't wait to leave this island. If it's not raining, it's snowing. If it's not snowing, it's foggy.'

'And that's the summer,' Lancelot said with his characteristic smirk.

'The rain's good,' Bors said, looking up. 'Washes all the blood away.'

'Doesn't help the smell,' Dagonet said, one of his rare statements.

Lancelot looked over at Bors. 'Hey Bors, you intend on taking Vanora and all your little bastards back home?'

'Oh, I'm trying to avoid that decision. By getting killed.' Bors added the last and smiled.

Gawain laughed and Lancelot smiled.

'Dagonet.' Bors leant over. 'She wants to get married, give the children names.'  
'Women.' Tristan sheathed the sword he had been sharpening. 'The children already have names, don't they?'

'Just Gillie. It was too much trouble, so we gave the rest of them numbers.'

'That's interesting. I thought you couldn't count.' Lancelot grinned.

'You know, I never thought I'd get back home alive. Now that I've got the chance, I don't think I'd leave my children.' Bors looked thoughtful.

'You'd miss them too much,' Dagonet said softly.  
'I'll take them with me,' Bors said, unusually quiet. 'I like the little bastards. They mean something to me.' He seemed to realise what he had just said, and covered up his affection with his usual bluster. 'Especially number 3. He's a good fighter!'  
'That's because he's mine,' Lancelot said, smirking.

I didn't hear Bors' reply as a crack of thunder rang out over head. I'm rather ashamed that I jumped, frightened. I felt my heart beating extraordinarily fast and shook my self in annoyance.

I settled on the branch and fell asleep, listening to the knights' continued joking.

The next morning I was hovering overhead when the knights galloped into the Roman estate. I was shocked at the sight of the peasants. They were so thin that their clothes hung on them like sacks. They were all gaunt and tired looking. Already I was starting to dislike the Roman.

I saw the Romans close the gate. I was too high up to hear what they were saying, but soon the Roman lord came out. I resisted the temptation to dive and cut his face open, but I dearly wanted to. His son, hardly any fatter than the peasants, came out. He seemed awed by Arthur, and not very inclined to follow the lord back inside the house.

I left then, and hovered while watching Tristan. He was riding back at a full gallop – obviously his news wasn't good. I saw him glance up at me, and I could see a faint smile tugging the corners of his mouth before he looked back to the road.

I followed him back to the estate, where Tristan delivered his news to Arthur. The knight's commander didn't look encouraged, but he nodded. Tristan listened to the Saxon drums, the pounding of which was now audible. Everyone halted what they were doing, listening.

Then Arthur seemed to notice two monks hurriedly blocking a doorway. He dismounted again and strode forward, drawing his sword. Dagonet broke down the door while the monks looked on, horrified. Then Arthur, Dagonet, Gawain and Lancelot entered. Tristan drew his sword, standing guard over the entrance.

When the knights came out again a while later, Arthur and Dagonet were carrying two emaciated people. One was a woman – a Woad, I noticed as I flew lower. The other was a young boy, about eight or so. He had a badly broken arm, while the woman's fingers were dislocated.

Horton, the Bishop's secretary, knelt down beside Dagonet as the Roman lord's wife came forward to help the woman. I wheeled away, sickened by what I had seen.

It was worse because I knew that this had been inflicted by men who claimed to be "of God". What god would support that? Rage filled me, and I stayed away until Tristan whistled.

I landed on his arm. He was at the head of a large trail of people – everyone from the estate. He looked back over his shoulder, then turned again to face the front with his usual grim mask in place.

'We'll never make it,' he muttered. 'Arthur will give his life for these people.'

There was bitterness behind Tristan's words. While he was not cruel, did not want to leave the peasants to die, he valued his own life more than those of others. He knew that when Arthur chose to make a stand, the knights would stand with him – and most likely die.

I offered what comfort I could, but I was afraid for him. I didn't want Tristan to die – especially not with his freedom so close to hand.

Tristan seemed to shake off his black mood, looking relatively cheerful as he led the mob of people. At last Arthur called the knights together. I noticed the Woad women, Guinevere, had her eyes fixed on Lancelot's back – although she occasionally glanced at Arthur.

'We'll sleep here,' Arthur said, shouting against the wind that snatched his words away. 'Take shelter in those trees. Tristan.'

That was all that Arthur needed to say to ask Tristan to scout. He patted me once more, then spoke.

'You want to go out again? Yeah.'

He lifted his arm, and I took off into the frigid air. The wind buffeted my wings and at first I found it hard to fly straight, but at last I got above the worst winds and it was easier.

That night Tristan seemed reluctant to sleep. He stood beside his horse, obviously contemplating scouting again. I could see that he was tired, so I landed on his shoulder and bit at his hand.

'You think I should rest, huh?' he said softly. 'You worry too much.' I clicked my beak, and he sighed. 'I suppose you could be right.'

He led his horse over to Jols, who took the reins. He would feed and rug the stallion, although Tristan had already unsaddled and groomed the horse.

Tristan found a tree quite a distance from camp. He preferred not to be too close to the others. Even so, he settled against the tree but didn't go to sleep. I watched from my perch on a branch on the next tree. He kept his eyes open, continually scanning the surroundings. I felt like rolling my eyes – there was most likely going to be a huge massacre tomorrow, and Tristan wouldn't sleep because he was too busy keeping watch.

I fluttered down and landed beside him. He looked at me and I chirped softly and as reassuringly as I could. He sighed and stroked my head gently, a slight smile on his mouth.

'You're the only one I trust,' he whispered. 'Will you watch for me?'

I nudged his hand affectionately and settled down beside him. He smiled again and closed his eyes. In moments he was asleep, and I kept watch over him until dawn.

'Knights,' Arthur said, his voice and face resigned.

'Well, I'm tired of runnin',' Bors said, walking forward. 'And these Saxons are so close behind, my arse is hurtin'.'

'I never liked looking over my shoulder anyway,' Tristan said, but his eyes flicked towards me where I was hovering just above the group.

'It'd be a pleasure to put an end to this racket,' Gawain said in a low voice.

'And finally get a look at the bastards,' Galahad added softly. His face had none of the anger or sarcasm he had felt towards Arthur since starting this final mission.

'Here. Now.'

Dagonet was already leading his horse forward. His voice was calm, as always – but decided. No matter what came after them, they would stay and fight.

Arthur glanced at Lancelot, who shrugged slightly. Tristan held out an arm, and I landed. He ran a hand down my back and gave me another piece of meat.

He didn't say anything, but I could feel his regret through his touch. The Saxon drums were loud as the others kept on going – with the exception of Guinevere, who stayed with the knights. Tristan gave me a last stroke, then lifted me into the air.

I circled once about his head, then with a cry I rose up into the strong wind. I had to struggle to stop myself from being blown about by the wind, but I had to see what would happen.

I had to watch the battle that was about to start. Who would live? And who would die?

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Sorry, I was going to include the fight in this chapter but I need some advice - should Dagonet die? I'm not sure if I should kill him or not... so please review andtell me what you think, and whether he should die or not.


	9. Chapter 9

Thankyou so much to all my lovely reviewers! because of all the reviews I've written this chapter as fast as I could. it's a bit shorter than usual, but the next one will be longer. hope you all like!

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Arthur, the knights and Guinevere fired arrow after arrow, always aiming for the edges of the group of Saxon. Men fell and as the other saw the pattern they bunched up, trying to avoid the deadly arrows. 

The commander, Cynric I think his name was, yelled for his men to hold the lines as the ice started to crack and grind. I flew lower, desperate to see what would happen.

Arthur crouched down and put a hand on the ice. He shook his head, and with my hawk sight I could see the anger, horror and resignation on his face.

I was to far up to hear what they were saying, but the knights and Guinevere fell back and drew their swords. They were going to fight. Dagonet tossed his sword in his hands, restless. He sighed, threw down his sword and took up his axe. Then, with a cry, he ran onto the ice.

I felt as though my heart had jumped up into my throat as crossbow bolts whistled around the huge knight. The others took up their bows again, shooting for the men who were aiming at Dagonet.

Dagonet hacked at the ice with his huge axe. It started to crack and splinter, and Cynric renewed his yells of "kill him!". I had to do something – any minute now Dagonet was going to be shot. But what _could _I do? I'm a hawk – I can't stop the arrows from hitting Dag.

_Or could I? _I couldn't stop the arrows once they were in the air, but I _could _spoil the Saxon's aim…

I dived, knowing that I was putting myself in danger now. I screeched loudly and raked my claws across a Saxon's face as he fired. I heard him swear as his arrow went wide.

I dived and pecked, clawed and screeched – anything to distract the Saxon. One aimed at me, and I felt the edge of the bolt brush the feathers on my wings.

I rose into the air, and looked for Dagonet. What I saw almost made me fall out of the air. Dagonet had two crossbow bolts – one in his left arm, the other in his right shoulder. the wounds weren't all that serious, but he had lost a lot of blood - the snow around him was stained red. Were either of them serious? I couldn't tell, but I had done my best.

It was up to the healers now to see whether or not he lived.

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Tristan scouted ahead, but I stayed with the other knights to watch Dagonet. He was pale, unconscious and shivering – but he had a chance.

Tristan came back and reported that it was clear to go ahead. He called me to his arm, and I gladly landed. He fed me a piece of meat and smiled slightly.

'So, you try to help us, hey?' his voice was low and teasing.

I clicked my beak and nudged his hand. He stroked my smooth feathers, then nudged his horse into a trot.

As soon as we reached the fort, Dagonet was rushed inside to a healer. Bors waited impatiently as the Bishop rambled on about "how great God is, to let you triumph!". He obviously just wanted to be with his friend, who even now was dangerously close to death.

I didn't hear what Arthur said, but it had an interesting effect on the Bishop. He looked bitter, angry – even guilty? Lancelot snatched their release papers from a Roman and handed them to each of the knights. He gave two to Bors – "for Dagonet".

Gawain, Galahad and Tristan stood still for a moment, none of them feeling the triumph and happiness they had expected. Gawain glanced the way that Bors had gone, hurrying to see Dagonet.

Tristan sighed and held his arm out for me. I flew down from where I had been perched on the roof, and he headed towards the stables. He gave his horse half an apple, then ate the other half himself. He sighed heavily.

'You know, girl,' he said softly. 'For years, we've waited for these papers. Flimsy bits of parchment that hold the worth of our lives. But now that we have them, they don't mean anything. Dagonet might die…'

He sighed again, and rubbed a hand over his face. He seemed suddenly tired. I nudged his hand softly with my beak, trying to comfort him.

'If he dies, the Romans will pay.' Tristan's voice was low and raw. 'He deserved his life.'

I chirped softly and shifted uneasily on his arm. He looked up, and gave a slightly twisted smile.

'Am I scaring you?' he asked, raising an eyebrow. 'Sometimes I scare myself.'

He shook his head, left the stable. He watched Gawain and Galahad head towards the tavern, but their step was slow and they were silent. With Dagonet near death, all of the knights felt that their freedom had come at a high price.

* * *

That evening, and the sombre mood still had not lifted. Tristan didn't join the other knights in the tavern. Instead he took another apple and headed towards Hadrian's Wall.

He sat on the wall, far enough away from the gate that the Roman patrol wouldn't disturb him. I hovered high above, watching as he carved his apple with his knife and ate.

Something in the distance flashed in the light of the setting sun. A sudden chill struck through me as it flashed again. I flew as fast as I could towards it, and my suspicions were confirmed. The flash had been the sun reflecting off a sword blade.

_Saxons. _An unreasonable hate built up in me. It was because of the Saxons that Dagonet was dying. Because of them that the knights had risked their life. I wanted to kill them with my own hands.

Instead I turned and flew fast back to Tristan. He looked up as I landed beside him. I screeched and flapped my wings as I turned to look towards the Saxons. Their drums were now faintly audible, and Tristan stood with a curse. He hurled what was left of his apple to the ground and hurried back to the fort. I flew above him.

* * *

Arthur was fetched by Jols, and he came running to the wall with Guinevere close behind. Lancelot scowled out at the hundreds of campfires. The sound of war songs drifted towards us on the cold night air.

Arthur was shocked, but resigned. He knew that the knights weren't in any condition to fight – Gawain, Galahad and Bors drunk, Dagonet dying, Tristan and Lancelot mutinous. The half Roman commander looked down at the frightened villagers. He shook his head and turned back to the Sarmatians.

'Knights,' he said. 'My journey with you must end here. May God go with you.'

He turned and strode from the wall. Lancelot and Guinevere glared at each other, then followed. Tristan looked at Bors, who was drunk but worried over Dag. Then the dark Sarmatian turned and left.

Gawain and Galahad looked at each other, then followed Tristan down the steps. Bors looked out once more at the Saxon, then staggered off towards the room where Dagonet was.

I looked once more at the Saxon camped outside the wall, then took to the air. Tomorrow, the Saxon would begin their assault on Hadrian's Wall. The knights would leave – and Arthur would stay. Stay alone to face the army.

I shuddered and flew after Tristan.

The next morning, the knights left. I saw Dagonet as he was carried out of his room and into a wagon – the same wagon where he had tended Lucan. The boy was inseparable from the gentle knight, and climbed in after him.

Dagonet did not look good. He had not regained consciousness, and his wounds were beginning to get infected despite everything the healers were doing. He was pale and in a fever – I knew there was little hope he would make it.

The knights led the caravan away from the fort. The Bishop was once again in his carriage, staring out at the figure of Arthur on the hill. From my perch on Tristan's arm I could see Arthur.

Arthur was on his horse, clad in full armour on the top of a hill, perfectly visible to everyone. In one hand he held a standard. He looked like a God of war, and I could sense the knight's pain at leaving their commander behind to die.

At last Bors could stand it no more. He kicked his horse into a canter, halted at the base of the hill and raised his sword. He called a war cry, but for a moment Arthur didn't answer. Bors lowered his sword, looking stunned.

Then Arthur answered, raising his standard. Bors watched a moment longer, then wheeled his stallion around and back to his position riding beside the cart that held Dagonet.

Tristan sighed, and I could feel frustration growing in him. He wanted to fight, he wanted to take out his anger. The fury he had felt at Arthur the last few days was gone – turning his back on his commander was hard, and even harder was running from the Saxon.

Eventually we were out of sight of Arthur. Then the war drums started pounding, and a shout from the Saxon was audible even from where we were.

The horses neighed and turned, fighting their riders. They knew the sound of war, and didn't understand why they were running away. Lancelot calmed his horse, his face serious. He looked up with a sigh, his eyes dark.

Gawain gave a slight smile, then looked at Galahad. His closest companion grinned fiercely, and Bors looked to where Vanora and his children were watching him. Vanora nodded slowly, understanding, and one of Bors' numerous children raised a hand in farewell.

'Hey.' Tristan turned to me and clicked his tongue. 'You are free.'

He raised his arm and I took off. I knew that this might be the last time I ever saw him alive. I circled once above their heads, then flew off into the smoke.

My heart felt like it was being cut in half. I wanted desperately for Tristan to stay safe, but I knew that he would never settle to a life of peace. He was a man of war, and always would be.

The smoke cleared enough a little later for me to see the knights with Arthur on the hill. They raised their standards, screamed a war cry, then plunged them into the ground.

I wheeled away, heading for the forest. I would always remember the knights like that – silhouetted on the crest of a hill, ready for battle.

But it pained me to know that this might be the last time I saw them before they left this world.

* * *

So, Dagonet isn't dead yet. my excuse for that is the hawk managed to distract the Saxons enough so that their arrows didn't hit him in the chest and kill him. Hope it didn't seem too unlikely.

next is Badon Hill. a bit of suspense here, because I haven't yet decided who lives through it.

Anyway, please review!


	10. Chapter 10

okay, I'm going on a holiday as soon as I've posted this, so I won't be able to get near a computer until the 11th. I hope to have the next chapter up within the week.

Thankyou to all my terriffic reviewers, without you I wouldn't have written this. :)

* * *

I flew into the forest. I was surprised to see hundreds of blue painted people, armed and ready waiting in the shadows – Woads. I could only hope that they were fighting on Arthur's side. 

I perched on a low branch, watching as the Woads fired a volley of arrows. Then there came the echoing sound of hoof beats – then the sounds of battle.

I shuddered at the screams and groans that came from the Saxons as Arthur and the knights swept through them. Again the Woads fired, and again the knights charged – this time from behind.

It was a massacre – the Saxon couldn't stand the force of the charging horses. The horses broke through the shield wall, and the knights struck the Saxon dead as easily as a scythe cuts through wheat.

Only one Saxon was left alive – he was allowed back through the gate, stumbling and bleeding as a message to Cerdic. Arthur wasn't defeated, he was still in it.

I glanced up at the hill where the knights had been earlier. Their standards were still there – but now Woads were pulling huge wooden machines up to the crest of the hill.

_Trebuchets_, my human mind supplied. We had studied them in high school, and built them – although admittedly not as large and powerful as the ones the Woads had.

_Merlin_. My first sight of the legendary figure. He was cloaked in animal furs, his face was painted dark blue and he held a spear in one hand. He stood before the catapults like a God, and I couldn't help but feel awed. Even from this distance I could tell that he had power.

The Woads loaded something into the slings – I couldn't tell what they were from where I was. They set fire to them, and waited. I glanced down at the gate. What I saw made me shiver.

Hundreds of Saxon were pouring in through the gate. More, way more than the Woad army. Arthur and his knights were going to die.

I shivered again as the Saxon formed up and the flank separated from the main army. The Saxon advanced, their drums and chants so loud that the ground seemed to tremble.

Then the trebuchets were fired.

They hurled the flaming balls into the sky, leaving huge streaks of smoke in their wake. They fell to the ground among the Saxon, and burst, sending huge flames up which killed many.

The screams were awful, and I wished suddenly that I was home with Ebony and my family. Then the Woads loaded their bows with arrows – arrows with tar-soaked rags bound around their tips. Several Woads carrying torches lit the arrow tips. I wondered what was going on now – surely the fire arrows would be more noticeable when in the sky, giving the Saxons more time to get their shields up?

Then the Woads fired. The hail of burning arrows flew through the air, and the Saxons used their round shields to protect them. Still, several careless or unlucky men were struck – but then a wall of fire went up, completely separating the flank from the main army.

_Clever, Arthur_, I thought wryly. Obviously he had met with Merlin, had made plans. As the leader of the Woad archers raised her axe and yelled, I recognised her with a start.

Guinevere was painted blue all over, her long dark hair tied back. She looked magnificent, if not rather threatening. She led the Woads, screaming and yelling, at the flank led by Cynic. I felt a pang of jealousy – I wish I had a body like that!

Immediately I shook myself. Hundreds of people were about to die, Tristan perhaps among them, and I was jealous of Guinevere? I pushed the thought out of my mind.

She was a good fighter. What she lacked in strength she made up in speed and agility. She attacked a Saxon fiercely, slashing and dodging.

But all the time I was watching I couldn't help but wonder about Tristan. Was he still alive? Was he hurt?

At last I could stand it no more. I took off into the smoke-filled sky, flying lower than usual to scan the battle field. The screams and yells were terrible. I could smell the metallic scent of blood. Human blood smelled much the same as animal blood, and I was reminded of all the times I had hunted.

It was different from battles in movies. There was no music, no mercy, no choreographed fights. It was death. I shuddered, wanting desperately to fly away, but I had to find Tristan.

When I did, I felt another shiver of icy fear wash over me. He had found Cerdic.

Tristan shoved his helm off his head – a deliberate sign of disrespect towards Cerdic. The Saxon let Tristan make the first move, parrying and feeling out the knight's defence. I saw the warlord take a hand off his sword and move it to his belt. He drew a dagger, and I felt a sudden arrow of fear strike through me.

I circled lower, desperate to see what was happening. Cerdic parried again and slashed at Tristan's side with his dagger. Tristan took a step back and put his hand to his side before looking at it. I could see the deep crimson of blood, and my heart felt as if it had skipped a beat.

Tristan didn't look angry or pained. He blew his hair off his face and looked at Cerdic, a sort of wondering respect on his face. He knew that he had met his match.

It didn't go well after that. Cerdic rammed his dagger through Tristan's arm. Tristan dropped his sword and stumbled back, and I thought that my heart might stop in fear. But Cerdic seemed to be enjoying playing with the knight – he kicked Tristan's sword back over.

I could see how much it hurt Tristan to lean over and pick it up. He swung wildly with it, but Cerdic blocked easily and ran his sword through Tristan's armour and into his chest. I could tell that it was not a killing blow – just a wound that would put Tristan in enough pain not to fight back.

Cerdic kicked Tristan down onto the ground. If I was human I would have cried to see Tristan crawl away, slowly and painfully. His face was to the ground, and for that I was thankful – I didn't want to see the shame, anger and anguish that I knew he would be feeling.

I knew that at that moment, Tristan would want death. He would be furious at himself for crawling, for throwing away his pride. I dropped lower, watching and wishing there was something I could do.

Cerdic thrust his sword, tip first, into the soft ground before picking up Tristan's blade. The Saxon looked at it, in a kind of amused detachment, before walking two steps forward and pulling Tristan up from the ground by his hair.

Cerdic half pulled Tristan up, so that he could deliver the killing blow. Tristan pulled Cerdic's dagger out of his arm and plunged it into the Saxon's leg. Cerdic grunted and thrust Tristan's own sword into the knight's back – again, not a killing strike but a painful one.

Cerdic looked up, across the battle field. I followed his gaze, and saw Arthur. The half Roman looked up, and I could see the horror and anger that flashed across his face before he went back to fighting.

_I wish there was something I could do_. I circled, and saw Tristan glance up at me. It brought a kind of sad comfort to know that he was glad to see me. Cerdic raised his arm and spun to deliver the killing slash across Tristan's chest.

It was in that moment that I moved. I moved purely out of instinct – I didn't have a plan or an idea of what to do, I just dived.

I dived, faster than I had believed possible. I extended my claws and screeched an animal cry of fury. Cerdic was distracted at the worst possible time, and glanced up – just as I reached him.

I raked my claws savagely across Cerdic's face. I heard him give a hoarse yell of pain as one of my talons grazed his eye. Then I felt a heavy blow to my left wing, and I fell to the ground.

Cerdic brought up his sword, and I saw with satisfaction that his left eye was bloody and his face bore the marks of my claws. My left wing wouldn't work – it was broken. But I didn't care. All I wanted now was to join Tristan in death. There was nothing left for me in life without him.

I saw a sword just near me. I wished desperately then for a human body, so that I could at least _try _to kill Cerdic.

That must have been the magic thought.

Suddenly I felt the cold air on my skin, and saw Cerdic's face change from one of absolute fury to absolute surprise and confusion. I stood up – and realised I had arms. Yes, I was human again. And completely naked.

I pushed the rather embarrassing realisation that I wasn't wearing anything out of my mind. While Cerdic was staring, I picked up the sword at my feet. It was heavier than it looked.

He realised what I was doing as I swung the sword towards him. He blocked it with contemptuous ease, then brought his sword around again in a wickedly curving slash that streaked across my chest, across my right shoulder and down my back.

I felt the pain, knew that I was cut. I started to fall – after so long as a hawk, I had rather forgotten how to use human feet and legs. As I fell, Cerdic flicked his sword and it seared past my throat.

I felt the burn of steel cutting through my skin, but it was a shallow cut and not the killing stroke he had aimed for. I fell to the cold ground and met Cerdic's eyes. I didn't care that I was about to die.

I had gotten a slight revenge – if Cerdic survived the battle, he would be permanently blind in the eye I had gouged, and he would have the scars on his face forever.

But Tristan was dead, I was about to die. Somehow I couldn't feel sad or regretful or even angry. I just wanted to be Tristan's hawk, either in this life or the next.

I had already died once, when the tree fell on me. Would this be more painful? I didn't know or care. I had once said that I would follow Tristan to hell and back. Now I would keep my word.

Something amazingly hard hit me on my head. I didn't have time to think a last thought before I fell into the roaring dark once again.

* * *

I opened my eyes. I wasn't dead – was I? I moved my right hand cautiously. My left arm was painfully stiff and I couldn't move it.

'Arthur!' I knew that voice. It was Galahad. 'She's awake!'

I moved my head slightly, and found four people looking at me with varying expressions. Arthur looked tired and surprised, Gawain curious, Galahad interested. Merlin looked like he always did – calm and solemn.

'Tristan?' I croaked. My throat felt rough as sandpaper.

'He's alive,' Arthur said grimly, a little suspicious. 'If he survives the night, he'll pull through. Who _are _you?'

Relief flooded me at his words. Tristan was alive. On the battlefield I had thought he was dead. But then my joy and relief faded as I looked around the room once again. I was on a straw-stuffed mattress, with a warm blanket covering me, which was good as I was still naked and the four men were staring at me.

They wanted answers, and I wasn't sure I had any. After all, how could I explain that I was a hawk and that I was born fifteen hundred years after they had died?

I sighed. This was going to take a long time.


	11. Chapter 11

First, I have to say sorry to all my readers - I've had a really bad case of writer's block, and I just couldn't get this one finished. But, at long last, it's complete and I've finally got it up.Thankyou so much to all my reviewers:)

I know this chapter is very choppy, but I just couldn't think of a better way to tell everything. So my apologies for the roughness, but I just wanted to get this chapter up so I could move on to the next.

Anyway, enough rambling from me, hope you like this chapter. Please review, and if you have any ideas I'd love to hear them!

* * *

'Run that by me again?' Galahad said after a pause when I had finished.

Gawain looked disbelieving for a second, then he burst out laughing.

'Of course!' he said, gasping for breath. 'Why else would that bird have been so intelligent? Lancelot always said it was more human than animal. I can't believe it!'

Finally he subsided. Arthur looked slightly sceptical, but Merlin stepped forward to speak. His expression didn't change, but I could see a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

'It is true, Atorius. There is no lie in her tale.'

I shivered. His voice had power, as did he. I truly believed now that he was connected to the gods.

'What shall we do with her?' Arthur said, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

'Let her stay. Her presence has changed the fates of two of your knights. Tristan would have died.'

Arthur nodded tiredly. 'Lady, you can stay here at Hadrian's Wall as long as you desire. Forgive me for my uncourteous words.'

'I am no lady, Arthur, so please don't treat me as one.'

The last thing I wanted was to be shut up in a room like a Roman lady. Merlin left silently.

'Arthur, we'll check on the others,' Galahad said.

Gawain and Galahad left, leaving Arthur and me alone. I met his steady gaze, and he sighed again.

'I must thank you for saving the life of one of my men,' Arthur said, slightly awkwardly. 'You shall be rewarded with anything you desire.'

'You think that's why I saved him?' I said with indignation. I sat up, noticing that I had been dressed in a chemise. 'So I could be rewarded?' I was angry. My wounds were hurting, I was confused and tired.

'My lady-' Arthur began, but I cut him off.

'Arthur, I am no lady!' I snapped. 'I tried to protect Tristan because he was a good master to me when I was a bird. Because I-'

I stopped short. I had been going to say "because I love him" but that wouldn't have been a good thing to say. I couldn't imagine what Tristan was going to say when he found out – but he was alive, and that was something close to a miracle. I had seen the wounds he had taken from Cerdic.

I just realised that I had snapped at Arthur, the famous King. I immediately felt guilty.

Also, another type of guilt was eating away at me. I hadn't tried to save Tristan's life. I had flown in the air above his head while he was stabbed. If I had dived earlier, I might have saved him from his horrific wounds. But all I had done was try to follow him into death. I didn't deserve any gratitude at all.

'I'm sorry, Arthur,' I said softly. 'I didn't mean to become angry.'

He shook his head. 'You have every right to be angry. You save Tristan's life and I start talking about rewards. My apologies.'

I nodded, yawning. He moved towards the door.

'I'll return later. Until then, get some rest.'

I was half asleep before he even left the room. But as the door shut, I suddenly realised something.

I had just been speaking a language that I don't even know. I thought back. Tristan had always spoken in that language – Latin, I think. I had always understood him perfectly, and the other knights.

How had that happened? Perhaps just being around the Latin speakers had been enough for some of the language to rub off on me. I tried to find a more sensible explanation for why I now understood Latin, but I was too tired. I decided to worry about it tomorrow – after I had slept.

I was woken the next morning by someone moving about my room. I opened my eyes to see Vanora setting down a tray beside my bed. She smiled.

'I've brought you breakfast,' she said, sitting on the end of the bed. 'The knights are all very interested in you.'

She looked more closely at me. Her light brown eyes sparkled and her reddish brown hair shone in the sunlight through the window.

'Thankyou, Vanora,' I said, sitting up and wincing as I felt my wounds.

Vanora looked surprised. 'You know my name?'

I nodded. 'I know that you have eleven children, and that you and Bors numbered them after Gillie.'

'So you really are the hawk?' Vanora asked eagerly. 'I didn't believe Arthur when he said that you were really a bird.'

'Yes, I am the hawk. Or was. I don't really know any more.' I sighed. It was too complicated to work out at the moment.

'Tristan's fine,' Vanora said with a knowing smile. 'The healers managed to patch him up.'

I raised an eyebrow, and the older woman grinned.

'I heard how you fought the Saxon warlord.' The teasing left Vanora's eyes as she became serious. 'That took courage. Arthur and the knights will always be thankful to you. You saved Tristan's life.'

I shifted my shoulders uncomfortably. 'I thought he was dead. Because the best part of my life is when I'm with him, I wanted to die as well.' I felt the guilt ease away. 'There was nothing heroic about what I did. If I had acted earlier, then I might have made a difference.'

Vanora shook her head. 'You made a difference. You were loyal, and you fought for him-'

'If I was loyal, I would have acted earlier,' I said bitterly. 'I wouldn't have watched, I would have done something faster.'

Vanora met my angry, guilty gaze. 'You still did something. Most would have flown away, left him for dead. You were willing to die to be with him.'

'Only because he's all I have left.' I looked at Vanora. 'I died, in my human life. I left my horse, my family, me friends… Tristan was all I had for a while.'

Vanora smiled slightly. 'You have a human life still,' she said.

'I never thought it would turn out like this,' I said softly, closing my eyes. 'I don't think he's going to like what I did.'

'Why not?' Vanora's voice was sharp.

'He hates being dependent,' I answered, my eyes still shut. 'He'll see his loss to Cerdic as a failure, and that I saved him will be hard to accept. His pride won't let him forget that he couldn't beat Cerdic, that he crawled away from him. That a girl stepped into his fight.'

For a moment Vanora was silent.

'You really do know Tristan.' I opened my eyes, looked at her. She was completely serious, her face sombre. 'I don't know how he's going to be when he wakes up.'

I nodded and gave a wry smile. My face felt stiff, as if smiling was hard work.

'I'm not looking forward to meeting him as a human.'

'I'm sure it'll go fine,' Vanora said, her voice cheerful. 'I'll leave you to eat in peace. You can get out of bed tomorrow, but for today stay in bed. Call for me if you need anything.'

I nodded. 'Thankyou, Vanora.'

She paused at the doorframe and smiled. 'It's a pleasure to meet you… what did you say your name was?'

'I didn't,' I said with another crooked smile.

A wail came from down the hallway.

'M-m-mother!' a small girl cried.

Vanora grimaced and rolled her eyes. 'Coming, Nine.' She smiled at me. 'Make sure you don't get out of bed, otherwise I'll get Bors to put you back in – and keep you in.'

I grinned, feeling slightly more cheerful. 'I'll stay in bed.'

It was evening when I woke again. I still found it hard to believe that Vanora and Bors gave their children numbers instead of names. I stretched out, smiling slightly.

Well, here I was. With Tristan, in his time. What would he say when he found out who I really was? Well, knowing him he probably wouldn't say anything – but the way he looked at me would tell me what he thought.

I really wasn't looking forward to meeting him as a human. I rolled over, wincing as I felt the cut on my shoulder pull open. I knew how close I had come to death – if Cerdic had put more power behind his stroke, I wouldn't be breathing.

The door opened and Vanora came in. She smiled when she saw I was awake.

'You were asleep not long ago,' she said, closing the door behind her. 'You were mumbling in some other language.'

I smiled wryly. I still hadn't quite figured out how I had come to understand and talk Latin, but I wasn't going to spend time thinking about it – I had more pressing problems.

'Not surprising,' I muttered to myself.

'Hmm?' Vanora asked, setting down another tray of food.

'Nothing, just talking to myself,' I said, eagerly taking u the tray. 'This is wonderful.'

Vanora grinned. 'Actually, I didn't make it. I can't cook to save my life.'

Her smile was infectious, and I couldn't help but grin back.

'Tristan's getting better,' she said softly. 'And so is Lancelot.'

I felt my heart leap inside me. Tristan was recovering. I could still remember the awful feeling I had felt when I had thought he had died. Vanora smirked.

'You're quite taken with him, aren't you?'

I didn't answer straight away. 'He was a good master,' I said eventually. 'He let me be free, he gave me the choice of leaving or staying. He rescued me from a wolf.'

Vanora put her head on one side. 'That doesn't answer the question.'

I shrugged, and continued eating. Vanora nodded and stood with a smile.

'Alright, keep your secrets. You can get up tomorrow.'

'Thankyou, Vanora,' I said softly.

She nodded and smiled, closing the door behind her.

The next morning Vanora gave me a dress to wear. It was deep red, nothing special but I was thankful. Vanora waved away my thanks.

'It doesn't fit me any more. I used to wear it before I had eleven children,' she said with a rueful glance at her body. '

I smiled as she helped me into it. I looked in the mirror to brush my hair – and got a huge shock.

It wasn't me looking back at me.

Well, it was – but I was different. I was older! Vanora had turned at my gasp of surprise.

'What is it?' she said anxiously.

'How old do I look?' I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

'About twenty-two,' Vanora said, puzzled. 'Love, it's not that old-'

'It's not that…' I said, studying my face closely. 'I used to be fourteen. Before I became the hawk… I was fourteen…'

Vanora raised her eyebrows and whistled softly. 'How did you age like that?'

'Maybe…' I thought hard. There had to be an explanation for this. 'Hawks age differently. Perhaps I'm twenty-two in hawk years or something…'

'That might be it,' I said softly.

I was pretty shocked, and with good reason. I felt like I was missing out on something important – hell, eight years of my life had just passed in less than two months.

I studied my face more closely. It was definitely me; my eyes, my face, even though I was definitely older. My hair, though, had changed. The brown had become more red – more like the colour of my feathers.

'Do you want to see Tristan or not?' Vanora laughed.

I turned away from the mirror, still rather unnerved. I had learnt Latin, had aged eight years, gone back in time – hell, what else could happen?

Vanora led me down the hallway. She paused outside a door several down from mine, and motioned for me to go in.

'That's Tristan's,' she said softly.

I paused, suddenly so nervous that I felt sick. What would Tristan think when he saw me? What would he say and do when he found out who I really was?


	12. Chapter 12

Thankyou to all my beloved reviewers! because I had so many reviews, I've written this one as fast as possible - so keep reviewing, and I'll keep writing!

Thankyou again, hope you like this one - and don't forget to review:)

* * *

I knocked on the door.

'What?' was the growled reply.

I took a deep breath, and Vanora nodded encouragingly. I opened the door, stepped inside.

Tristan glanced at me from where he was lying on his bed. His eyes raked me up and down, and for a moment I felt very awkward and out of place. Then he sighed.

'What?' he asked again.

I walked forward, until I was only a couple of paces from his bed. I looked down at him, keeping my face as blank as possible. The knight looked irritably up at me.

'You don't remember me?'

Even to my own ears my voice seemed flat. Tristan's eyes narrowed as he looked at me more closely. I saw him take in my reddish brown hair, my face – and then something clicked.

'_Hawk_?' he gasped, staring.

I nodded, thinking that I had the dubious privilege of being the first person in years to catch Tristan off guard.

He held my eyes with his own unreadable gaze. Then he snorted, his gaze mocking.

'So, you deceived me.'

I raised an eyebrow, feeling my heart sinking. He wasn't going to make this easy.

'You're not who I thought you were.'

Still I didn't answer. There wasn't really anything I _could _say that would placate him.

'Go away. Never come near me again, or I swear by the gods I'll kill you.'

I bowed my head, this time it was me mocking. I felt anger well up inside me, but overriding it was hurt and indignation.

'So sorry to disturb you, great lord,' I said in a voice of pure derision. 'I'll leave you to heal.'

I saw something flicker in his eyes, knew I had hurt him, but I didn't care. I turned, flicking my long hair over my shoulder as I did so. I didn't look back as I closed the door behind me.

Vanora saw my face and she patted my shoulder sympathetically.

'Don't worry love, he'll get over it,' she said softly. 'Give him time.'

I sighed heavily, fighting back tears as I leant against the door. I knew Tristan by now, I wouldn't let him win by reducing me to crying. I wouldn't cry, wouldn't let him win.

'Is there a horse I can borrow?' I said as steadily as I could. 'I need to ride.'

Vanora nodded understandingly. She led me through the fortress to the stable. The familiar scent of hay and horses was reassuringly. Vanora spoke to Jols, and within minutes he had a horse ready.

I thanked them both and mounted quickly, cursing in a whisper as my long skirt caught on the saddle. I pulled my skirt up to my knees so that I could ride properly – I wasn't going to ride side saddle.

I turned the horse and kicked him hard. He snorted, rose slightly on his hind legs and burst into a gallop. I didn't slow down as the horse galloped down the street. People scattered out of the way as the as I passed.

It was hard to ride with only one arm – my left was bound up in bandages. Vanora had said that I had fractured it, but it wasn't bad.

It was only when we were among the open fields that I slowed the horse from his wild gallop. I immediately felt guilty as the gelding lowered his head, panting heavily as he walked.

'Sorry, boy,' I said softly.

I didn't know what his name was, but he was a good enough horse. I looked around, enjoying being alone. Tristan's rejection of me stung. I hadn't expected him to be overjoyed, but neither had I thought he would threaten me with death.

I turned the gelding around, back to the fort, but I kept him at a walk. I was in no hurry to get back to the Wall.

Then a thought occurred to me. I had become human – was it possible that I could become the hawk again? At least as a bird I could be free.

I tried as hard as I could, doing everything I could think of – but nothing happened. I wanted desperately to be a bird again – I had had so few problems as the hawk.

At last I gave up, and dismounted at the stable door. Jols offered to take my horse, but I preferred to do it myself. I wasn't looking forward to going back to the fort, so I took as long as I could brushing and sponging the sweat out of the horse's coat using only my right hand.

At last, though, I had no option but to go back to the fort. I avoided everyone I could, even Vanora. At last I made it back to my room. I went back to bed.

At least when I was asleep my heart didn't hurt with the ache of losing Tristan's affection.

I kept to my room for a long time after that. I can't really remember how long – I had sunk into a state of depression so bad that even Vanora didn't know how to cheer me up.

One morning I heard her raise her voice at Tristan, whose room was down the hallway from mine.

'She risked her life to save you!' Vanora's yell was furious.

Tristan's murmured answer was too low pitched for me to hear it, but whatever it was Vanora took as an insult to me.

'Of course not!' Vanora's voice was scathing. 'If that's what you think, you're a bigger fool than I thought!'

Tristan's voice rose only a notch in volume, but I caught the soft undertone of menace even through the walls.

'I never asked for her help!' he said dangerously. 'She should've known better than to meddle.'

Vanora laughed, but there was no mirth in it. 'Oh, and you've never meddled?' Tristan didn't reply. 'Tristan, she has helped you so many times, both as bird and human-'

'I wish I'd left her to the wolf!' Tristan exploded suddenly. I cringed, wanting to bury my head in the pillow to drown out his words. 'She's been nothing but trouble.'

Vanora snorted. 'Who showed you that Wenda was a snake? Who hunted for you? Who saved you from Cerdic?'

'She didn't save me,' Tristan mumbled, his voice lower. 'She was knocked out before she did anything with that sword.'

'She distracted Cerdic before he could kill you, she blinded him in one eye…' Vanora sounded exasperated. 'She's no coward, if that's what you think. She distracted him enough that Arthur got there in time to kill him.'

Tristan was silent for a moment, then Vanora sighed in irritation.

'For once, Tristan, swallow your pride and apologise! She hasn't eaten in days, she hasn't left her room…'

'You can talk,' Tristan said suddenly, a sneer in his voice. 'You don't even know her name.'

'True,' Vanora admitted. 'But did you know that she has died? She told me. That's how she became the hawk – she left her family and friends behind, became the hawk. She's aged eight years, she's got a fractured arm…' Her voice was both exasperated and pleading. 'Please, Tristan, just apologise. I don't want her dying because your pride is to strong.'

Tristan grunted. 'Go away. Leave me alone.'

'No.' Vanora's voice was low and strong.

I raised an eyebrow. I suppose that I shouldn't have been listening, but there was no way I couldn't – their voices carried clearly through the walls.

'I care for that girl, Tristan. She's been thrown into a new world, you're the only one she really knows, really trusts. Please, will you just say that you're sorry?'

Vanora sounded like she had reached the end of her patience. She was half pleading, half threatening, but Tristan heaved a sigh in defeat.

'All right, if it'll make you shut up,' he snapped. 'After lunch.'

I was sitting on the bed, looking out the window when Tristan came into my room. I didn't looked around – I knew what he was going to do.

'I'm sorry,' he said abruptly. 'I didn't mean to scare you.'

For some irrational reason I felt anger blaze. I should have been happy that he was apologising, but all I felt was hostility.

'Yes you did,' I spat, still not looking at him. 'You meant to get rid of me. You think I can't tell when someone is lying?'

I turned to face him, and he actually took a step back from me as I stood up.

'I trusted you,' I said in a low voice, taut with anger. 'I was loyal to you. Now that you know what I really am, you throw me aside.'

'I-' Tristan started.

'_I'm not finished_!' I yelled. I'm not sure which one of us was more startled by my outburst. 'I'm leaving,' I said, walking forward and meeting his gaze. 'It's obvious you don't want me here. So I'll leave. You'll never have to see me again.'

I brushed past him, made for the door with a step that wasn't too steady.

Tristan spoke as I reached to open the door. 'Woads are still out there, so are Saxon-'

I turned to stare at him. After so long as his bird, I could read him easily. There was no concern or worry in his eyes – he wasn't warning me, he was stating the facts. But somehow I wasn't surprised at the lack of care.

'You once said to me, Tristan, that you would never send me away again. Looks like your word is about as trustworthy as a Roman's.'

It was the most insulting thing I could think of. I saw something flicker in his eyes, knew I had hurt him badly. A muscle twitched in his jaw, then he was pinning me against the wall with a dagger at my throat.

'Take that back,' he snarled. 'Take it back.'

I met his gaze, unafraid. _Do it_, I told him silently. _Kill me. I have nothing left to live for_.

But he didn't make a move to end my life. Slowly he regained control of himself and took a step back. I moved towards the door again, but his voice stopped me.

'How am I to know that you didn't frame Wenda?'

I froze, unable to believe what I was hearing. I turned to face him, found that his eyes were burning with bitter victory.

'I've no way to know if you are true at all. So why should I trust you?'

I couldn't believe it. My heart was pounding hard, I could feel tears stinging my eyes. I wouldn't let him see me cry.

Then he hit me.

I reeled back a step, my eyes closed as I felt the sting of his punch to my jaw. I moved my mouth slightly, cautiously testing. My jaw wasn't broken. I opened my eyes, looked at him.

Tristan was looking at his hand. He looked up at me, and I saw a range of emotions – sadness, anger, despair, bitterness. He regretted hitting me, I saw that he was going to apologise sincerely – but I didn't want to hear it.

The hand that had just hit me had often stroked the back of my head, often fed me. The voice that carried such stinging insults had once whispered words of affection.

It was the last thing. I felt a tear trickle down my face, didn't lift a hand to wipe it away. I met his gaze, let him see my anger.

'_Rot in Hell, Tristan_,' I choked in English. '_Rot in Hell!_'

I turned and left, slamming the door behind me.

* * *

In case you're wondering, this isn't the last chapter, but we are getting closer to the end. hopefully I'll be able to update again within the week. 


	13. Chapter 13

To all of my fantastic reviewers: THANKYOU:D

I wrote this extra fast because of all the reviews: over 100 for the story! wow, more than i had hoped for :)

so anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter and keep reviewing please. thanks again to you all :)

* * *

I barely noticed when I left the fort, walked almost blindly along the road. The tears in my eyes made everything blurry, and I almost broke my ankle in a rabbit hole I didn't notice.

I couldn't believe Tristan had hit me. After all that had happened… I tried to excuse his behaviour, tried to tell myself that he hadn't really meant it – but he had. He had meant to hurt me, and although I had seen the regret in his eyes after, I just couldn't forgive him.

It was awful, to suddenly realise that Tristan wasn't the perfect saint that I had thought he was. Yes, I had been blinded by loyalty and affection – but I should have realised.

My idol had just toppled from his pedestal.

I'm ashamed to admit that I was crying as I left. Yes, I had left Tristan behind, but it hurt so much that it felt like a physical wound. I wished, oh how I wished that I had never become the hawk, was still at home with Ebony and Rachel.

I only noticed where I was when I stepped out of the sun into the cool shade of the trees. I wiped my eyes and looked around. I would stay here for a while, as long as I could survive. I had brought with me a full leather bottle of water and several loaves of bread – enough for two or three days.

I walked further into the forest, not even trying to remember the way back to the road. It was only when I stumbled over something that I realised I had been here as the hawk before.

This was where I had watched Guinevere and the Woads shoot, where I had watched the knights as they prepared for battle. I had watched Tristan-

No. Don't think of Tristan. I have to put him behind me.

I had fallen over a stray arrow. I picked it up, running a finger along the feather flights. I was about to throw it away, but something stopped me. For some reason I still don't know, I wanted to keep it – a souvenir of sorts, I suppose. Whatever it was, I didn't throw it away.

I don't know how long I walked, my eyes blurred with tears as the sun slowly set. I think I ended up walking in circles, but at last I stopped and sat down with my back to a tree by a stream.

It was late evening before I roused myself to gather wood, I didn't remember until after that I had no way to light the fire.

Everything seemed suddenly against me – have you ever felt like that? That everything that could go wrong did go wrong?

Yes, I cried. I poured my heart out, crying not only because I was cold and hungry, but because I was lonely and couldn't get over what had just happened.

Tristan.

_Why? _I wailed silently. He didn't know how much he had hurt me. Actually, no, correct that. He knew. He didn't care.

It was ten days later when I went back to the fort.

Why didn't I simply stay away?

Because I had no knowledge of how to survive in the forest – the only hunting I'd ever done was as a hawk. By the time I got back, I was hungry – and I mean hungry as in ravenously hungry. I had survived by eating very small amounts of bread, with whatever nuts and berries I could find.

I stayed out of the way of the other people as much as I could when I entered the fort. I was at the side of Vanora's tavern when she walked past with Arthur, not seeing me. Whatever they were discussing, it wasn't good – Vanora looked worried, Arthur looked as if he hadn't slept in days.

'-Don't know where he is, he couldn't survive an attack. He's been gone two days.'

'He must be looking for that girl,' Vanora said, plainly worried.

I caught a sentence of their conversation, and it made me feel as if a bucket of ice had just been tipped into my stomach. If they were talking about who I thought they were…

I skulked in the shadows as Arthur joined his knights. I mentally ticked off each knight. Tristan wasn't there. My insides seemed to turn to ice.

Yes, I had tried to abandon him – but no matter how I tried, I just couldn't push him out of my mind.

'-Gawain, Galahad, take the forest to the south-east of the Gate. Bors, Dagonet, take the south-west. Be back before nightfall.'

The knights nodded and left, striding away so fast that they were almost running. Arthur sighed and headed after them, towards the stable.

All I could think of was Tristan, alone in the forest for two days. Was he still alive? After I had left the fort, I had tried desperately not to care about him, not to care what happened to him. But I couldn't do it – I had nightmares of Tristan dying, and I would wake cold and sweating.

I knew that no matter what he had said and done, I couldn't leave him along in the forest to die.

_If ever I need to be a hawk_, I thought, _it's now. _

I had failed before; I couldn't afford to fail again. I thought of a hawk, concentrated so hard to become the hawk that I didn't realise straight away when it happened.

Suddenly the world was so much larger, I was so much smaller, my senses were so much sharper. I took off, revelling in the feeling of being free once again.

A sharp pain in my left wing reminded me that I wasn't fully healed, that I couldn't waste any time. I took off, flying fast towards the forest.

I swooped low over the tree branches, searching. I used my keen eyesight to search, but found nothing.

All day I searched, flying for as long as I could. It was late afternoon when I finally stopped, absolutely exhausted. I realised dimly where I was, then a sudden thought struck me. If I was right…

Forgetting my exhaustion and ignoring the insistent pain in my left wing I took off again, gliding silently through the bright sun. At last, I was there.

I spiralled down, hoping. I was almost afraid to look, afraid that I was wrong – but I didn't have to worry, he was there.

Tristan was sitting under a tree, his back against the trunk. I recognised the tree, the glade – it was the place where he had first rescued me from the wolf, where I had first met him.

I circled silently above him, not sure what to do. He glanced up, saw me, and I saw his mouth curl into a smile. I dropped lower, and he held out an arm.

I landed beside him, deliberately ignoring his outstretched arm. He smiled slightly again, this time it was more bitterness and regret than hope and relief.

'I'm sorry,' he said quietly, but I heard every word. The look in his eye was sincere; he truly meant what he said. 'I lost my temper. I meant it when I said that I'd never send you away, although you must think me a liar.'

I hissed slightly, feeling my feathers bristle. All the pain he had caused me, both physical and mental, was too strong to be overridden by his words.

'Please forgive me, Aderyn.'

I cocked my head to the side, a silent question. Once again he gave a brief smile.

'It means "bird",' he said softly. 'You never told your true name. Do you like it?'

I flicked my wings, which he took for a "yes". He held out his arm again, and I slowly stepped up. My heart was beating fast as he held my level with his face.

'Can you forgive me?' he asked softly.

He was sincere, I could see it in his eyes. I was torn. I had sworn to put Tristan behind me, never to trust him – but now I was faced with him, he was offering me his apologies, and his words were stronger than my resolve.

But still, I wasn't going to let him off lightly. I screeched and bit him fiercely on his jaw, opening a red furrow in his skin. He blinked, jerked his head back, and I cheeped softly as I ran my beak through his hair. He smiled slowly.

'I deserved that and more,' he said, and I could hear the relief in his voice. 'Thankyou.'

It was then that I noticed the dark stain spreading through his clothes. I could smell the metallic scent of blood – Tristan's wounds had opened again. He looked down at his blood-stained clothes as I croaked in worry. He gave another bitter half-smile.

'I was looking for you, instead I found a Saxon,' he said softly.

He was pale underneath his beard. I nudged his arm worriedly as he closed his eyes and rested his head against the tree. His breathing was fast and shallow – already I knew that he needed Dagonet's healing.

I took off, struggling slightly to rise into the air as pain shot through my left wing. Tristan opened his eyes, looked up as I rose into the air. There was alarm in his eyes.

'Don't leave,' he said, in a voice little more than a whisper. 'Don't leave…'

I circled once, called reassuringly, then headed towards the fort. It was late afternoon, almost evening. I hoped desperately that Dagonet would be there – Tristan needed him _now_.

I was forced to fly slower than I would have liked – my left wing was so painful that I couldn't fly any faster without being in agony.

I couldn't help but wonder at myself. I had resolved to put Tristan behind me, never to listen or speak to him again – but now here I was, flying with a fractured wing to help him. But I couldn't deny it any longer – I loved him.

At last I reached the fort. Arthur, Bors and Dagonet were just leaving the stable. Feeling relief so acute that it was almost painful, I swooped down and landed on the ground in front of them.

'What the-?' Bors asked, looking confused.

Arthur, though, seemed to understand. 'Tristan's hawk?'

I clicked my beak and spread my good wing to balance as I hopped towards them. Arthur looked cautiously hopeful.

'Do you know where he is?'

I screeched, flapped my wings in answer.

'Can you show us?'

Again I answered. Arthur turned to the others, his eyes shining with hope although his face was still worried.

'Dagonet, come with me. We might need your healing abilities. Bors, get the others and follow our trail.'

Bors left without a word while the other two men saddled their horses in record time. When Arthur and Dagonet were mounted, the commander gestured towards the forest.

'Lead us.'

I took off. At first I couldn't get into the air, and dropped back to the ground. Dagonet leaned down with a worried look, but I snapped at his hand and tried again.

This time I got into the air, but without any of my usual grace. I struggled higher, then led them out of the fort and into the forest. I had to fly slower with the horses following, but at long last we arrived.

By now it was evening, and the light was a kind of dark purple that made everything look dark and mysterious. I swooped down and landed next to Tristan. He looked terrible, and was unconscious.

Blood had soaked his clothes on his chest and had collected in a pool on the ground. He was pale and hardly breathing – I was struck with a sudden fear that he would die, here and now.

Then Dagonet knelt down. He looked serious as he used his dagger to cut away Tristan's blood soaked shirt, revealing the ugly cut underneath that was bleeding sluggishly.

'He might not make it,' Dagonet said tersely, pressing a cloth against the wound to stop the bleeding.

I was exhausted – more tired than I had ever been before in my life. I made another huge effort to get off the ground and perched in a tree above Tristan's head.

I had meant to stay awake and keep watch, but I was too tired. I fell asleep as Tristan hovered near death.


	14. Chapter 14

Okay, first i have to say a huge thankyou to all of my reviewers, without you all this story would never have been written.

Also,I have to say sorry for being so slow to update, but I just got a new puppy and she keeps me busy 24/7. although she is adorable and very cute, I spend a lot of time running around making sure she doesn't chew anything dangerous - especially not electrical cords, which is why I haven't been able to get near a computer for so long.

This chapter is slow, but i need it because yet more accidents happen in the next couple of ones. enough rambling from me, enjoy and please review!

* * *

I was woken by someone touching my shoulder. My instinctive reaction was to bite, but when I saw that it was Arthur I checked myself before I hurt him.

'We're taking Tristan back to the fort,' he said softly.

I clicked my beak to show that I had understood him and watched as Tristan was lifted onto his horse. He was still pale and unconscious. I flew above them as they made their slow way back to the fort, all of the time swooping low to check on Tristan before soaring back up again.

It was late at night when we finally got back. Vanora had prepared his room and Tristan was carried upstairs by Bors and Dagonet. I perched on the back of a chair, watching as Dagonet bound up the last of his wounds.

'He should make it,' his quiet voice was full of relief. 'Leave him to sleep, he should wake before morning.'

Arthur nodded, relief plainly written on his face. Gawain sighed heavily and leant against the wall with a ghost of a smile.

'He's a tough old thing,' he said tiredly. 'It'll take more than another Saxon to finish him.'

Galahad snorted. 'Don't let him hear that, he'll skin you alive.'

Bors laughed and Dagonet ushered them all out of the door. Vanora, who had been at the back of the room, came forward to where I was perched, watching Tristan.

'Do you want to stay here?' she asked, her eyes soft with understanding.

I clicked my beak, and she smiled. She nodded to me, blew out the last candle and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

I studied Tristan. He didn't look good – he was pale and still shivering slightly. But I trusted Dagonet – I knew that he would do everything he could to save his fellow knight's life.

The room was completely dark, only the pale light from the moon and stars relieved the darkness. I still couldn't quite believe what had happened. For days I had tried to forget Tristan, but he was about as forgettable as a flying pig.

And now he had admitted that he was wrong, that he wanted me to stay with him. I could see the deep cut on his jaw where I had bitten him; he hadn't objected, he had said that he had missed me.

And yes, I loved him. I hadn't admitted it before, not even to myself, but I did. All those hours of watching him, being with him – and I had fallen in love. It wasn't a passing crush – I knew him better than anyone else did, and I think that he knew me to a certain degree as well.

But I wasn't about to tell him that. I tucked my head under my wing and went to sleep.

* * *

I woke suddenly, feeling something touch my head. I opened my beak to bite, saw it was Tristan, and closed it again. He smiled.

'Jumpy, aren't you?'

Its been three days since I found Tristan in the forest. With Dagonet's healing, he had recovered well, although he still wasn't completely back to health.

I had fallen asleep in Tristan's room around midday after he had taken me hunting.

'Can you turn back into a human?' he asked.

I glared at him and clicked my beak before jerking my head towards the door. He understood what I meant and chuckled.

'Yes, I know you're naked when you shape-change. I saw it once before, remember?'

He was teasing me – only with me did he lose his quiet air, become talkative. I bit him hard on the finger and he rolled his eyes.

'Oh, alright,' he muttered. 'I'll ask Vanora to bring you some clothes.'

He was true to his word, and Vanora soon arrived with the same dress I had worn before. I found that changing back to human was a lot easier this time, and I was soon clothed.

'You know, I'm glad you're back,' Vanora said, smiling as she combed my hair. 'I missed you, and also Tristan was in a foul mood.'

'Really?' I asked, raising an eyebrow at the mirror as I watched Vanora carefully untangle my hair.

Vanora nodded. 'He scowled all the time, snarled at anyone who got in his way, was moody and completely unbearable. I think he felt guilty.'

Again I raised an eyebrow, but this time it was in scepticism. Vanora saw the look and shook her head.

'He truly missed you,' she said. 'I heard him once sigh and mutter "idiot Sarmatian, for once you should've swallowed your pride" to himself. If it hadn't been him who said it, I would have laughed.'

I smiled slightly. 'Good thing you didn't, he probably would have cut out your tongue.'

Vanora laughed and nodded. 'Yes, I don't doubt it.'

She finished combing my hair and helped my up from the chair. She surveyed me critically and smiled.

'You look wonderful in that. Come on, I need a hand in the bar.'

I followed her down to the tavern, feeling happier still – the kind of happiness that makes you giddy and you have to make sure you don't start grinning idiotically at nothing.

The tavern was crowded already, smoky and loud. The sky outside was darkest blue as the sun set in the west. Vanora steered me to the bar and handed me a jug and three cups piled one on top of the other.

'Take that to the knights,' she said briskly. 'Then come back and get these.'

She piled more cups on the bench as I left, winding my way through the other patrons. Almost all were men, except for the serving maids and the bar wenches.

I put the wine jug and the cups on the table where the knights were seated. Lancelot was involved in an argument with Galahad, although that didn't distract the youngest knight from pulling a wench down onto his lap.

Tristan, I noticed, was leaning back in the shadows at the end of the table. His dark eyes roved around the tavern, met mine, then once again went back to watching the others. Gawain was teasing Bors about Four, who had black hair and brown eyes.

'For the last time,' Bors roared, clearly exasperated but still slightly amused. 'Four is _not _Lancelot's!'

'Wanna bet?' Gawain asked, catching the eye of a pretty dark-haired girl passing by.

I set the cups down on the table with the wine jug and turned to leave when something pulled me backwards.

'Hello beautiful,' Lancelot's smooth voice purred in my ear. 'You never told me your name.'

I rolled my eyes. His arms were secure around my waist, holding my back as I tried to stand up. He kissed my neck and I elbowed him in the stomach – not hard enough to do anything other than distract him.

'You might not know my name,' I snapped, getting up. 'But I know yours. And your reputation.'

Lancelot looked bewildered as the others laughed. I realised then that he had never met me in human form – he had obviously only just gotten out of the hospital ward. Gawain took pity on his friend and explained.

'This is Aderyn,' he said, still laughing. 'Tristan's hawk. She's a shape shifter.'

Lancelot looked surprised. 'From the description you gave me, I expected her to be older,' he said. 'Although,' he added, the impudent glint back in his eye, 'if you like, I'd be happy to nest with you.'

The knights laughed again, except for Tristan who I noticed had been silent and still throughout the whole encounter. I rolled my eyes again and walked off, not able to think of anything to answer with.

I heard a thud and an "ow!". I turned and found Lancelot rubbing his knee.

'What was that for?' he asked Tristan, who looked the picture of innocence.

'What, me?' Tristan asked, looking surprised. 'It was Galahad. Seriously.'

I could tell that Tristan was lying, but Lancelot was so used to Tristan being serious that he believed the other Sarmatian and turned to Galahad. Lancelot punched him on the arm. Galahad turned, spluttering as he put down his wine cup.

'Why'd you do that?' Galahad yelped, rubbing his arm.

Tristan winked at me as Galahad punched Lancelot back. I grinned and went back to serving at the bar.

* * *

The next few days were a happy blur for me. I also became good friends with Vanora and Fulcinia. I was a little reserved with Guinevere (yes, I was jealous) but she was so friendly and nice that eventually I relented.

Suddenly aging like I had took some getting used to – I had to constantly remind myself that I wasn't fourteen any more, I was too young for immature pranks – except for when I put a frog in Lancelot's bed. The yell that came from his room that night was so funny that even Tristan laughed.

Arthur spent several weeks searching for any sign of rebellion or remaining Saxons. Finding none, he married Guinevere and took up the crown of the king.

At the wedding I stood beside Gawain and Galahad. Dagonet and Lancelot stood with Bors, who was holding one of his younger children. Tristan was leaning against one of the stone pillars. To others he might have looked bored and disinterested, but I noticed the way his eyes flicked around over everything and knew that he was enjoying himself, for all that his face remained stony.

'King Arthur!' Merlin shouted, holding his torch aloft.

'Hail Arthur!' the crowd shouted. They knelt, following Merlin's example.

'Let every man, woman and child bear witness,' Arthur said, his clear voice reaching everyone. 'That from this day forward, all Britons will be united in one common cause!'

He drew his sword and held it up. I smiled slightly to myself – I knew how long he had rehearsed that line, getting it right. This was an important time for Arthur – he had to show the other tribes that he was a strong leader who would rule well.

Everyone cheered, chanting Arthur's name. Bors drew his sword.

'Atorius!' he bellowed.

Arthur turned his head to look at him. Bors smiled and held his sword over his heart in a salute. Gawain and Galahad exchanged a smile as Arthur glanced toward us. I bowed my head briefly in salute. Guinevere raised her hand so that she was holding the sword as well.

Arthur signalled to the Woads standing with their bows on the edge of a cliff. They loaded arrows tipped with tar-soaked cloths lighted and bound around the point. They drew their bows, aiming high into the air over the water.

At a signal, they loosed and the arrows flew through the air leaving smoky trails. The crowd continued to chant Arthur's name.

But although everything was fine and happy, I couldn't help but wonder.

I had found that Arthur and his knights were real, that they did in fact exist. Did that mean that the rest of the legend would come true? Would Lancelot still desire Guinevere? Would there be a civil war because of them both?

I looked at Guinevere. She was my friend, but that didn't stop me from seeing the truth. I saw how even though she was in love with Arthur, her eyes couldn't stop from flicking over Lancelot.

Lancelot looked happy for Arthur, but at the same time wistful. I couldn't help but think that things would have been simpler if Lancelot had died at Badon Hill, terrible though his death would have been.

But then Guinevere smiled at Arthur, and there was such a degree of love there that I managed to convince myself that they would stay true to each other.

I glanced at Tristan. He was no longer watching Arthur and Guinevere as they kissed again – he was looking at me. And although I knew him better than anyone else alive, I couldn't read the glance.

I was still smiling as I turned back to Arthur and Guinevere, now stepping down from the altar. But I couldn't shake off the feeling that this happiness wouldn't last long.


	15. Chapter 15

I could tell by the expression on Arthur's face that his news wasn't good. Bors, Lancelot, Jols and Tristan were in the tavern, eating lunch when he entered, looking ten years older than he had the day before.

'Knights, come with me,' he said, his forehead creased. He hesitated, then turned to me. 'Aderyn, you come as well. You may be able to help.'

This didn't exactly fill me with confidence – I had learnt by now that they only needed my help when something went wrong. I followed Tristan and sat down beside him at the round table. Arthur remained standing.

'Gawain, Galahad and Dagonet have disappeared,' he said grimly.

Lancelot swore and Bors leapt to his feet. I breathed in sharply, but as always Tristan contained his emotions.

'I sent them to search the forest for any Saxon who may have escaped. That was a day and a half ago. They haven't returned.'

'We must go after them,' Bors bellowed, still on his feet. 'We can't leave them out there. They may be hurt, even dead.'

Arthur sighed. 'We don't know where in the forest they are. They haven't returned, but they may be fine. I just don't want to take any chances.'

'If we could find them,' Lancelot said slowly, letting his words trail off.

I shifted in my chair as everyone glanced at me. Tristan raised an eyebrow.

'Could you?' he asked.

I considered. Shape changing used a lot of energy, and I would be exhausted by night – but there was no way I could leave the knights out there, possibly killed or injured.

'I will search for them,' I said softly. 'But I can't guarantee I'll find them.'

Arthur nodded. 'I'll be grateful for whatever you can do, Aderyn.'

I stood up. 'I'll go now. If I find them, I'll return and lead you.'

Arthur nodded and Tristan stood, following me out of the room. He walked with me to a grassy area where I wouldn't be bothered as I changed. He turned to me as I stopped and prepared.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' he asked.

I glanced at him. He wasn't questioning my ability – he was asking whether I knew the risk I was taking, trying to find the knights who were possibly held captive by Saxons. I nodded.

'If I don't try and one of them dies because of me, I'll hate myself forever,' I said quietly. 'If I stay as a bird, they won't notice me. Or so I hope.'

He nodded and stood back as I spread my arms and closed my eyes. I concentrated hard – thinking of feathers, of talons, of a beak and eyes that could see a mouse move from fifty feet in the air.

I was concentrating so hard that I didn't realise that I changed shape until I felt the dress I had been wearing become limp and fall on me, blocking out all the light.

Tristan lifted the dress off me and held out his arm. I hopped up, and he looked at me.

'Be careful,' he whispered. 'I'll be in my room if you find them.'

I nodded to let him know that I understood. Then he lifted his arm and I took flight.

It took me a little while to get used to my wings. At last I recovered my balance, and I flew for the forest. I noticed that a small bird, flying much lower than me, was darting into the forest. I swooped lower, trying to see what it was, but it was out of sight.

Searching in the forest is hard, because I had to fly low. I had to go underneath the canopy of branches so that I could see the ground. I also had to look where I was going, otherwise I would crash into a branch and possibly break a wing.

I saw no sign of them as I kept flying. Frustration was building inside me - I could spend weeks looking in the forest and not find them. I landed on a branch, discouraged.

I sniffed the air, suddenly realising what I was smelling. Smoke! A fire nearby. I sniffed the wind again, hope making me feel as though my heart had jumped to my throat.

But I found that my nose had mislead me – the fire was deep in the forest, further away than I had thought. It was late in the afternoon when I finally got close enough to see the smoke rising into the air.

I flew in carefully, stopping often to make sure that there were no sentries watching. Then I almost shook myself. Of course sentries wouldn't look for a bird!

How wrong I was.

At last I came to the edge of the clearing where the fire was. I perched on a branch to survey the scene.

Around the fire were three men – Saxon by the look of them. Who else wore those cloaks of badly cured animal pelts? I could smell them from the tree branch.

And there, bound hand and foot, were the three Sarmatians. They were all tied to a stake driven deep into the ground, and their weapons had been removed. Dagonet looked resigned, but Galahad was furious. Gawain seemed to be in a daze.

Their horses were hobbled and tied to a tree nearby. All three of the knights had bruises and bandaged wounds – they hadn't been captured without a fight.

I looked around again, and saw that the Saxons were busy eating. I should have left then, gone back to Arthur to tell him what I had found. Instead I flew to the tree that was closes to the knights. I wanted to reassure them, tell them that help was coming. Stupid me.

I fluttered down silently to land in front of Dagonet. His eyes widened as he saw me, and Gawain sat up straight. I should have realised what Dagonet's panicked look meant, but I thought that it was just the aftershock of being captured.

'Aderyn!' Galahad gasped loudly, staring.

At once Dagonet clapped his hand over the younger man's mouth, and Gawain elbowed him sharply in the ribs. But the damage was done.

There was the twang of a bow, and only my reflexes saved me. It was a habit now to jump sideways at the sound of an arrow, and it was a good thing I did – an arrow landed beside me, buried deep in the ground where I had just been.

I took off with a screech, as more bows twanged. Desperately I dipped and swerved, but one came so close that it took feathers off my left wing. The Saxon were yelling.

'Get it! Get it! Or it'll be the death of us!'

A rock flew through the air – I dodged but it had been thrown by Gawain. It hit a Saxon square on the nose – even with both hands bound together, he could aim almost perfectly.

Dagonet and Galahad followed his example, and I was able to get into the air. I might have been able to escape then, but for one thing – some cunning bastard had somehow made a net.

I'm not sure what it was made of – some kind of cloth rope. The corners were weighed down with stones, and it fell right on top of me, pulling me to the ground.

I screeched – well, really, I _screamed_. Perhaps if I had had the sense to change back into a human I would have got the net off – then again, I might have been shot. But I was wild with anger and fear.

I fought, beak and claw, to get the net off – but all I did was tangle myself up. A hand reached for me, but I bit and slashed wildly until it was withdrawn with a curse.

'What a devil!' the man cursed, using his cloak to stop the blood trickling down his arm.

'Well, we've got her,' another voice said, satisfied. 'Arthur won't get any new of us now. He won't know where we are, and he won't have any warning when we attack.'

'That net was brilliant,' another said, emerging from the bushes beside me. 'It got the bitch perfectly.'

I stayed still, panting heavily. Fear was like ice on my back. I was captured – so were the three knights. Arthur had no warning that there would be an attack.

If I could have, I would've hit myself on the forehead for my stupidity. If I had flown straight back to Arthur, this wouldn't have happened.

Then I heard something that made me freeze with fear.

'Tie that bird's beak shut, and clip its wings. I don't want it flying off or changing back to human. Perhaps later we'll see what roast hawk tastes like.'

As the Saxon came towards me, rope and dagger in hand, I had one thought.

_How the bloody hell did they know who I was, and why I was here?_


	16. Chapter 16

Here we go! sorry, I tried to get this up on Friday, but the ocmputer kept saying "error". Grrr.

Anyway, thankyou heaps to my wonderful reviewers, this chapter's for you.

* * *

I fought as soon as the net was off, but the Saxon easily overpowered me. One held my head and legs still, so that I couldn't bite or scratch. The other tried to tie my beak shut – without any success. The rope was just too thick, and not even the netting would work.

So they bound my feet together instead, and used a sharp dagger to cut through the feathers on my wings that enabled me to fly. It hurt because they were so rough, and I fought as hard as I could, but there just wasn't anything a hawk could do against a huge, heavily muscled Saxon.

At last I was dumped on the ground. A rope was attached to the stake where the knights were tied, and the other end was tied around my legs. All I could was hop and try my best not to fall over.

As soon as the Saxons turned their attention to celebrating, Gawain reached over and picked me up.

'Are you alright?' he asked softly, holding me in his arms. 'I'm sorry, we should have warned you.'

I croaked tiredly, my throat rough from screeching so loudly at the Saxon. I wanted to transform back to my human shape, but I knew that would be dangerous. Not only would the rope around my legs cut my circulation off, but being a naked woman in the middle of a Saxon camp was not a good idea.

I was stuck.

As the Saxon celebrated and ate, I heard them laughing and making crude jokes about the Sarmatians. Galahad stiffened and swore through clenched teeth at one such quip.

'If I can get my hands on them…' he muttered.

One of the Saxons turned to me and laughed.

'You know how we caught you, little hawk?' he sneered in appaulling Latin.

I screeched my anger. The others laughed.

'Raury at the fort sent us regular reports of what was going on. When he heard that you were coming to find us, he sent a homing pigeon ahead of you. Imagine that! a hawk beaten by a pigeon!'

Galahad spat at him. The Saxons laughed and turned back to their meal and ale. I would remember that name. Raury would have a very slow, very painful death.

So the bird that I had seen flying into the forest ahead of me had been a homing pigeon, carrying a letter from a spy in the fort. I felt so foolish - but overriding that was anger. That man would pay - in blood. I knew that even if Arthur let him off, Tristan would hunt him down.

That night was a terrible one. The other knights were furious, not only at being overpowered and captured, but at the treatment I had received. I noticed Galahad eyeing the nearest Saxon – if his hands and feet hadn't been bound, I think he would have strangled the man with his bare hands.

There were many more than the three Saxons I had seen when I had flown in. About twenty others had been hiding in the bushes and trees around the clearing, wearing green and grey splotched cloaks that blended in perfectly. I felt such a fool when they moved and I saw them – if I had been less hasty, more careful, I would have seen them. About ten more came in later, carrying a large deer which they had shot. Several bodies lay sprawled, unmoving on the other side of the fire.

'The ones we killed,' Gawain said softly when he saw me looking towards them. They ambushed us using a trap in the ground, but we killed about ten.' He looked at the other Saxons, his face sour. 'Wish we'd managed more.'

I was in an agony of discomfort, unable to move my legs. I had to wait until most of the Saxon had gone to sleep before I could start to try and gnaw through the ropes binding my legs.

It was impossible to do – I couldn't bend my back enough to reach the rope. Galahad leaned over and nudged me.

'Aderyn,' he whispered. 'If you can get these ropes off my hands, I can get the dagger hidden under my clothes.'

I got to work straight away, but it wasn't easy. The rope was thick and coarse, and my beak made little progress. But it was something to pass the time.

'Where is the dagger?' Dagonet asked, brow furrowed with confusion. 'They searched us for hidden weapons and took mine.'

Galahad smirked slightly. 'It was hidden in a place they didn't think to look.'

Gawain snorted and Dagonet shook his head, a slight smile on his usually sombre face.

It was early dawn when finally the rope was frayed enough that Galahad managed to snap by jerking his hands apart as hard as he could. He grinned and reached under his shirt for the dagger.

'Thankyou, Aderyn,' he said softly. 'Now we can get out of this mess.'

He produced a thin-bladed knife from inside the hem of his cloak. He smirked at Gawain's surprised face.

'Well, they _didn't _check there,' he said innocently.

'But you said – I thought – ' Gawain spluttered.

Galahad smirked. 'Really, Gawain, you shouldn't spend so much time with Lancelot,' he said wickedly. 'You used to have such an innocent mind.'

Gawain gaped as he worked out what Galahad had said. By the time he had realised that he had been insulted, Galahad had cut through the ropes on his legs and had started on mine.

The rush of blood back to my feet was painful, but better than having the circulation cut off by the ropes. I hopped up onto Gawain's offered arm, regretting more than ever the loss of my feathers that enabled me to fly.

Galahad cut through the ropes holding Dagonet, then the three men huddled together to devise a plan.

'Get our weapons,' Gawain said, nodding towards the pile on the other side of the clearing. 'Then get on the horses, and get the hell out of here.'

Galahad shifted, longingly gazing towards the sleeping Saxons. Dagonet shook his head.

'No,' he said softly. 'There are too many. We escape and warn Arthur – nothing else.'

The young knight sighed and nodded. Then Gawain, still with me on one arm, led the others at an army crawl towards the pile of discarded weapons. None of the sleeping Saxons stirred – they were too drunk. It was the ones on sentry that worried me.

The three knights paused when they reached the tree and their weapons. When there was no movement or sound except from the constant snoring, they quickly took their weapons and headed back towards their horses.

Their luck ran out as they freed the horses from their hobbles. Dagonet's temperamental stallion snorted and whinnied – a piercing sound that woke several.

A Saxon leapt up, saw us, and yelled. More woke and rose, yelling and grasping their swords. Most were drunk, staggering as they ran towards us.

'Let's go!' Galahad yelled, vaulting onto his horse's back.

Gawain did the same, almost jolting me off his arm. The three kicked their horses into a gallop, Gawain's grey running down a Saxon that got in the way.

The three men bent low over their horse's necks. None had bridles, only halters and trailing lead ropes that were dangerously close to their hooves as the horses galloped down the path. Gawain looked back and cursed.

'Duck!' he yelled.

He crouched lower as arrows sailed around us. I had never felt more helpless – I couldn't fly, couldn't do anything more than grip doggedly onto Gawain's arm and hope that I didn't fall beneath the pounding hooves.

It was early dawn, and pale purplish light made the forest seem strange and hostile. I glanced behind – the Saxons had no horses, and couldn't keep up. But their arrows were still flying around us, and as I spread my wings to balance one went straight through.

I screeched in pain, and lost my grip on Gawain's arm. I fell, and landed in the cold, hard dirt of the of the path. I heard the thunder of hooves, and opened my eyes.

In horror I saw the four hooves of Galahad's grey mare bearing down on me. Galahad hadn't seen me – he was looking over his shoulder at the Saxon. Thankfully, though, the horse stepped over me – except for a back hoof that caught my head.

I didn't have time to think – the world darkened like a switched-off television screen.

When I came around, it was with a pounding head and an agonising pain in my left arm.

I opened my eyes, bit back a groan as the world spun. I was human – and I could feel cold air on the bare skin of my body. I sat up, waited until the world stopped spinning, then looked around.

I was back in the Saxon camp. My heart sank. There would be little chance of escaping now. The men were around the fire, arguing with raised voices. Several swords were drawn.

I became aware of pain in my legs and looked down. Both my hands and my feet were bound so that I couldn't move. I glanced at the sky – it was late afternoon. How long had I been here?

A Saxon looked over, and noticed that I was awake. I didn't like the smile that curved his thin lips – I shivered, desperately wishing that I could transform and fly, but I didn't have the strength left and even if I did I couldn't fly with cut feathers.

The Saxon tapped another on the shoulder, and jerked his head at me. The other smiled, a cruel smirk – I began to sweat in fear, but I refused to let anything show on my face.

The arguing broke off as more realised I was awake. When one spoke, I could hear what he said.

'I want her first. You bastards can wait until I'm finished.'

I shivered again. _Tristan! _I thought desperately. _If ever I needed you, it's now._ I knew there was no way he could hear me, but it was all I could do to stop myself from bursting into tears.

The leader walked over, followed by the smirking pack of men. I stared up at him, my teeth bared in a snarl.

'Hello, pretty,' he cooed, kneeling down and stroking my hair. 'What's your name?'

I swore viciously at him in English, then spat on his face. He wiped the saliva away, a cruel smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

'Yes, I'll enjoy making you scream,' he said softly.

I stared back, doing my absolute best to keep fear off my face. I wouldn't cry, I wouldn't let him know how scared I was.

He leant down suddenly, covering my mouth with his. I bit his lip hard, and I heard his muffled yell as his blood ran into my mouth. I spat it at him. He was no longer smiling.

'Hold the bitch,' he said harshly.

He drew his dagger as two of his men pulled me up so that I was standing. He ran the dagger down my left arm, the one that already had a huge gaping wound from the arrow. I felt the cold of the steel, then my warm blood trickling down. I forced myself to meet his eyes.

'Scream, slut,' he whispered. 'Scream, and I'll make it quick.'

The knife jabbed hard into my arm. My hands were tied, but I made good use of my head – I slammed my forehead into his nose. I felt bone break, and his blood splattered me. I felt sick as he reeled back, roaring.

One of the soldiers hit me across the face, hard. Another punched me in the stomach, pushing the air out of my lungs. I struggled to breath as the Saxon leader raised his sword, blood coursing freely down his face from his ruined nose.

He screamed something as the blade descended – I couldn't move as I watched my death move towards me.

But then he toppled over with a scream, a black feathered arrow in his neck – _Tristan's _arrow.

Then Arthur and his knights were riding in, Tristan ahead of them all. I saw the unmasked fury in his face as he saw them clustered around me – he shot another in the eye, dropped his bow and drew his sword.

There were many more Saxon than knights, but the Sarmatians and Arthur were furious. The Saxons dropped me as they drew their swords, but the knights cut through them easily. They were angry, and they fought like devils.

I lay where I had fallen in the dirt, feeling the Saxon's blood on my face, in my mouth, my own blood on my left arm. Suddenly there were foot steps behind me, and someone gently lifted me up. Tristan's worried eyes looked into mine.

My head was spinning, and I think I had a concussion from being kicked in the head by Galahad's horse. Darkness caught me up, but at least I had the comfort of knowing that I was among friends once more.


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks, as always, to all my wonderful reviewers!

* * *

I woke slowly, opening my eyes. It was dark outside, but a flickering lamp provided a little light. There were low voices talking nearby, outside the circle of light cast by the torch.

'-she was brave,' someone said. I struggled to remember whose voice it was.

'Yeah. I've never seen Tristan fight like that – he went crazy.'

'I think he always _has _been crazy,' the first voice said dryly.

Galahad and Gawain. I turned slightly, noticing for the first time a severe and irritating sting in my left arm. Most of it was bandaged – herbs had been put on my wounds. The knights realised I was awake.

'Tristan left not long ago,' Gawain said lightly, sitting down. 'He's been with you since we carried you in.'

I nodded, still a little dazed. Galahad smiled tightly, but there was nothing at all amused in the action.

'He also found someone called Raury,' he said slowly. 'I didn't stay and watch, but the last I saw was the man running. He didn't get far.'

I shivered, although there were warm blankets covering me. I knew that Tristan could be brutal and vicious when he wanted to be.

'We killed the Saxons, if you're wondering,' Gawain said, stretching his arms. 'None survived.'

I nodded, too tired to answer. I yawned. Gawain noticed and nudged Galahad as he stood.

'We'll leave you in peace. Sleep well.'

They were at the door when he turned around. His blue eyes were serious.

'Thank you, Aderyn. Although you didn't get back to Arthur, you still effectively saved us. The Saxons were going to execute us at dawn and send our heads back to Arthur.'

He and Galahad left, shutting the door behind him. I was left alone with my thoughts, which were decidedly grim. When I finally slept, I dreamt of severed heads that talked in words I couldn't understand.

The next morning I woke to find breakfast on a tray beside my bed, and also clean clothes. Smiling and making a mental note to thank Vanora, I got up and dressed. I planned to visit the baths and wash off the dirt and blood that was encrusted on my skin, but first I would eat.

I made my way to the baths, stopping first to thank Vanora and return the tray. It was wonderful to be clean again, but I had to hold my left arm out of the water. The large wound from the arrow was painful, and I couldn't use my left hand.

When I returned to the tavern for lunch, I found the knights sitting around. Lancelot was, as usual, gambling – he was pretty bad, and rarely won. Gawain and Galahad were tossing knives, joking and teasing.

Tristan saw me, and motioned with one hand for me to come over. I sat down beside him, and he touched my cheek with a long finger.

'How are you?' he asked, dark eyes boring into mine.

I shrugged. 'As well as can be expected.'

I still wasn't used to the fact that I was now twenty-four. On a sudden impulse I turned to Tristan.

'How old are you?' I asked softly.

He glanced at me, but answered readily enough. 'Thirty-one,' he said. He didn't say anything else, but I could tell by the slightly raised eyebrow that he wanted me to explain.

'I was just wondering,' I shrugged, turning back to the bread in front of me.

I was acutely aware of him next to me. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but I was attracted to him. It was impossible for me not to be – I knew him so well, and he knew me.

I loved the hair that obscured his dark eyes, the tattoos that accented his fine cheekbones. I loved _him_ – that was it. But there was no way I would act on those feelings. Unless…

I pushed those thoughts out of my head as Lancelot left his game and sat down at the table. I was slightly paranoid that Tristan could read my mind – he could certainly read my face as well as I could read his. But, luckily, he was talking with Arthur and mercifully hadn't noticed me watching him out of the corner of my eye.

Gawain and Galahad came over and sat down, their game obviously finished. Gawain looked disgruntled while Galahad had the innocently evil look on his face that said as clearly as a flashing neon pink sign that he was teasing his closest friend. Gawain sat with a thump, looking irritated.

'-there's no point trying to deny it,' Galahad said sagely, dark eyes gleaming wickedly. 'You lost, fair and square.'

'You distracted me,' Gawain grumbled.

Galahad shook his head, the picture of innocence. 'I did no such thing. Stop trying to discredit me.'

Lancelot rolled his eyes. 'Don't you two do _anything _other than squabble?' he asked testily.

'Ooh, someone has their knickers in a knot,' Galahad said, immediately focusing on his new target. 'What's up with you?'

'His ego was dented when a serving girl refused to kiss him. He's suffering,' Gawain said with a grin, joining in.

'At least I can throw a knife at a target and not kill someone standing ten feet away,' Lancelot snapped.

I gasped in mock surprise, leaning towards him. 'Is that a white hair?' I asked innocently, pointing towards his mop of curls.

Lancelot's face changed from one of mild irritation to horror. His hand flew up towards his mop of curls, then he noticed me, Galahad and Gawain laughing. He frowned again.

'Oh, grow up,' he said irritably.

He stood and left, stalking out past where Guinevere and Arthur sitting. I think that I was the only one who noticed his eyes lingered on the queen. I bit my lip, worried. Still, I was fairly confident that Lancelot wouldn't touch Guinevere. For one, the queen loved Arthur – and two, Lancelot cared too much for his friendship with Arthur to risk it.

But as I looked around the tavern, I noticed Dagonet looking in the direction Lancelot had gone, his forehead creased in worry. It seemed I wasn't the only one concerned.

I watched Lancelot closely for the next week or so, but he didn't glance to Guinevere, much less try to do anything that could be taken the wrong way – which was a relief. It was one thing to read about the fall of Arthur, and another to actually live it.

I spent my time doing nothing. Tristan was fiercely protective, and wouldn't let me do a thing for as long as my arm was bound up – which was a long time.

About four weeks after I was rescued by Tristan, I went down to the stables. I was sick of sitting around, and when Jols refused to let me near a horse my temper snapped.

'It's not for Tristan to say what I can and can't do!' I yelled, knowing my face was an angry red. 'Either saddle a horse for me, or I'll do it myself. But _get out of my way_!'

Jols blinked, then grinned. He had almost no temper, and wasn't at all daunted by my screaming fit.

'Yes, Aderyn,' he said with a smile, bowing his head slightly. 'But make sure Tristan doesn't have my head for this.'

I smiled in return and let him saddle a horse for me. I refused a saddle – I wasn't going to ride sidesaddle like a lady!

At last I was ready, and I mounted a red roan mare Jols had bridled for me. She had a calm, sweet disposition, but was in no way a slouch. At the touch of my heels she broke into a trot – I was reminded of Ebony, and couldn't help but wonder how she was.

I rode at a canter through the fort. Many stared, obviously not used to the sight of a girl riding bareback like a man, her dress pulled up past her knees.

Soon we were out among the farms. A man working near the road straightened when he saw me, and smiled. He was slightly older than me – twenty five or twenty six. I slowed the mare as he walked forward to speak to me.

'Don't see many riding like you are,' he laughed, brown eyes gleaming with intelligence and humour.

He had pale blond hair and skin browned by the sun. He was very handsome, and white teeth flashed as he smiled. I was acutely aware of my legs, bare from mid-thigh down. The mare, sensing my sudden discomfort, sidled and tossed her head.

'I'm Will,' he continued. 'What's your name?'

'Jenny.' Something was telling me not to give my new name, the name I now thought of as mine.

Will nodded, still smiling. His warm brown eyes held mine, and I couldn't look away. The sound of galloping hooves behind us startled the mare as much as me.

The roan reared and wheeled, sending me flying over her shoulder. I hit the dirt and rolled, leaping to my feet even as Will started forward to help me.

I swore heavily in English, using every curse I knew as I saw what had startled the mare. Tristan slowed his horse to a trot and halted in front of me. His dark eyes flicked from me to Will, who was standing close beside me with an arm around my waist.

Will seemed to realise what Tristan was glaring about, and moved quickly away. I could see the dark fire burning in Tristan's eyes – anger and jealousy perhaps? Then he blinked, and all expression was gone.

'Hello Aderyn,' he said frostily. I had to stop myself from flinching at his icy tone.

'Aderyn?' Will said, surprised. He glanced at me. 'I thought you said your name was-'

'Doesn't matter,' I snapped, suddenly irritated. 'Any particular reason you just startled the hell out of me?' I said to Tristan.

He raised an eyebrow. 'I rode after you out of concern. And it's a good thing I did. You obviously need help.'

'If you hadn't startled my horse I wouldn't have fallen,' I said hotly, my temper building.

'I wasn't talking about falling off a horse,' Tristan snapped. He turned to Will. 'Good day.'

Will, confused, nodded to him and then to me as Tristan grabbed me and swung me up onto the saddle in front of him. The roan mare cantered alongside as Tristan turned his horse back to the fort. I could feel the tension in his body that spoke of his anger, but he still wound one arm around my waist to hold me on the horse.

'Enjoying yourself there?' he asked hotly.

'I _was_, until _you _came along,' I snapped, regretting it the instant it left my mouth. Tristan stiffened even further.

'Oh, I'm _so _sorry that I interrupted,' Tristan said, anger coursing through his usually calm voice. 'You should have told me you wanted some privacy with your lover.'

'_Lover?_' I gasped, outraged. 'Is _that_ what you think? Bloody hell, Tristan, I just met him as I rode past!'

Tristan snorted. I turned my head so that I could see his face.

'What's it to you, anyway?' I demanded.

I felt the arm around my waist tighten, and regretted what I had said. I had practically dared him to say that he liked me more than as a friend. I was about to face the front again when he kissed me.

I was so surprised that I opened my mouth to speak, but he took that as an invitation to take the kiss deeper. For a moment I was stunned, then I felt his other arm wrap around me. I pushed him away, even though I was shaking and desperately wanted to kiss him back.

I slid off Tristan's horse and mounted the mare who had followed. I didn't look at him as I took the lead, cantering back up to the fort. I felt as though my heart was going to burst out of my chest, it was beating so hard.

I didn't look back, but I could hear Tristan's horse just behind mine. When I got to the stable, I dismounted and gave the roan's reins to Jols with a pat on the mare's nose and the promise of a carrot later. I left without glancing at Tristan.

I made it to my room without meeting anyone else. I had just closed the door and leant against it when there was a knock.

'Aderyn, open the door. We have to talk.' It was Tristan – well, who else would it be? 'Please.'

I had been going to refuse, but he had added "please". I knew how rare it was for him to say that, so I opened the door – after I was sure that there was no expression on my face.

Tristan stood in the doorway, his dark eyes overbright. He looked at me – I held his gaze.

'I'm sorry,' he said softly. 'I've wanted to tell you this for so long…'

My heart was hammering in my ears. I had wanted so much to hear him say this… he sighed and continued speaking when I didn't answer.

'Aderyn, please…I have to know.'

His last few words were a whisper. It cost him a lot to say that, to ask, to plead for me to understand. Something exploded inside me – happiness. I had wanted this for so long.

I leapt forwards, wrapping my arms around his neck as I pressed my lips to his. He immediately wound his arms around me, stroking my back as I ran a hand through his hair.

At last he let me go, his eyes glowing. He ran his tongue over his lips as I blushed. At last he smiled.

'Coming to lunch?'

I laughed and walked with him down to the tavern. Yes, Will may have been handsome and charming, but Tristan was Tristan, and I loved him with all of my hawk's heart.


	18. Chapter 18

Well, we're getting close to the end now - only a few more chapters to go. thanks, as always, to my WONDERFUL reviewers - chocolate to all of you!

also, i noticed a while ago (but forgot to mention it) that i've used two of my reviewer's names in the story - Jenny and Rachel. you guys don't mind do you? if you do, tell me, and i'll change it. but anyway, hope you all like this one.

* * *

Although it was only lunchtime when Tristan kissed me, it seemed that by dinner everyone in the fort knew about us. I suspected the eldest of Vanora's daughters had told her parents, who of course had told everyone – a girl of about thirteen who blushed when I looked at her.

When I went down to dinner, Lancelot wolf whistled and Galahad clapped me on the back. I blushed furiously as Tristan pulled me onto the seat next to him. Gawain watched me out of twinkling blue eyes, smiling in a satisfied way as Galahad grudgingly handed him two gold coins.

I ate listening to the knights joke and talk. I was very aware of Tristan next to me, constantly turning his head to look at me. Once I met his gaze – I blushed as he smiled slightly and went back to eating.

It was odd really – I wasn't sure how to behave with him now. Before it had been easy once we had sorted out that first argument, but now it was different. I wasn't just his hawk any more.

_Was _I a bird, truly? I couldn't get the idea out of my head. If I truly were a hawk, then my time on this world was short. Birds don't live that long – but in a strange way I was comforted by the thought of my death close ahead of me. I didn't want to be left without Tristan in this world.

Time passed, and Tristan and I grew closer. His kisses were like a fire in a dark night – the bright spots of my life.

But the land wasn't peaceful yet – there remained small factions of rebels throughout Arthur's kingdom, and there were always bandits that needed hunting.

Every time that Tristan left, I worried that he wouldn't come back. He didn't want me coming with them, even as a hawk – he thought it was way too risky, even in bird shape.

When he ordered me to stay behind, I felt little guilt at transforming and flying after him. But when he had asked me, as a favour to him to stay behind, I found it impossible to refuse.

And so it was then that I learnt archery – I was so bored and worried that I asked Jols for a bow and arrows. He found an old bow for me that was small enough for me to bend with only a little trouble.

At first I practiced alone, just shooting arrows again and again until my aim began to improve – at least my arrows no longer missed the target regularly, although the occasional one did go astray.

It wasn't something I learned over night; it took weeks of practice before I could even be classed as a mediocre archer. When Tristan learnt what I had been doing, he started to teach me. Even with his excellent guidance – he was patient, firm and encouraging – it was two months before I managed to get three arrows, one after the other, clustered in the middle of the target.

That was how time passed – me worrying and shooting, Tristan riding and killing. Until one day I could stand it no longer.

I shape shifted, feeling my dress fall away and with it all my problems. I was _free_… free to fly, free to hunt, free to find Tristan.

I was a little clumsy getting into the air, after all it had been quite a while since I had last shifted. But flying through the cool air of dawn was exhilarating, and oddly calming.

It was midday before I felt the effects of my shape change. I hunted, eating bloody raw rabbit as happily as I ate cooked meat. It was early afternoon when I found the knights and Arthur making their way back towards the fort, slightly bruised and bloody but otherwise unhurt.

I circled in the air above them, planning to swoop down and surprise Tristan – but he glanced up as I dropped lower. He gave a slight smile as he shook his head, but he held out his arm for me to land, which I did.

'I suppose you'll never willingly stay behind, will you?' he said softly, teasing me.

I nipped his finger gently as he stroked the soft feathers of my head. He smiled again as Gawain laughed.

'Aderyn's more hawk than human, Tristan,' he said, drawing even with Tristan. 'She'll never be tamed.'

Tristan shot him a glance that said clearly that the blonde knight didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Gawain laughed again and trotted forwards to catch up with Galahad and Bors.

'I wouldn't _want _to tame you,' Tristan whispered, caressing my head with a gentle finger.

I chirped, then settled more comfortably on his gloved hand. I was tired after shape shifting and flying. Tristan realised I was sleepy, and held his arm so that I was close to his chest.

'Go to sleep, little one,' he whispered. 'I'll keep you safe.'

I tucked my head under my wing, secure in the knowledge he would protect me from anything. I fell asleep close to his chest, as I had done so once before – long ago, before he knew that I was human.

I lost track of the time that I spent at the fort, but it was at least half a year before an even of some significance occurred.

I loved my hawk shape, and would never give it up – but it had its price, and using it was expensive. I accompanied the knights on a long mission, staying in my hawk shape for more than two weeks. This was no strain in itself; with Tristan nearby, I was content. But when I changed back in my room, and glanced in the mirror, I had to shut my mouth firmly to hold back a scream.

Once again, it seemed, the gods were enjoying playing with me. I had aged – _again_.

Truly, it is one of the most shocking things that can occur, and it left me shaking and white. I was now about twenty-eight, give or take a year. I was glad Tristan was away on another scouting mission – I didn't want him to see me pale and shivering.

I cried, although I'm ashamed to admit it. In fact, I spent the night sobbing silently into my pillow. It's one thing to age properly, but to have years taken away in the course of two weeks was hard. They were years I had never lived, years I had lost off my life.

Only one thought gave me a little comfort – I was close to Tristan's age now, I wouldn't die long after him. I honestly don't think I could survive his death.

Vanora coped with my sudden aging without drama – instead she comforted me, putting an arm around my shoulders and giving me a cup of tea.

'You know what, love?' she said gently to me. 'You should see Merlin. If anyone knows what to do now, it's him.'

I nodded, and at midday I rode out. Arthur had told me he was nearby, in a forest. The Woad soldiers would take me to him once they found me.

Which they did very quickly.

They took me to their camp, keeping their weapons close by. Under Arthur's rule the two peoples had reached a truce, but trust would take time to build up.

Merlin didn't seem surprised to see me, and once again I felt the aura of his power as I was ushered into his hut. He ordered the guards to leave – I was no threat to him.

'Well, Aderyn,' he said in his slow, knowing voice. 'I have been waiting for you. I knew you would come.'

I nodded. 'Yes, sir.'

He waved a hand. 'Call me by my name. I will not stand on Roman formality. Tell me your troubles.'

I nodded again. 'Yes, Merlin. I took hawk shape for two weeks, and when I changed back I had aged again. Why does this happen? Is it because birds have shorter lives than humans?'

Merlin nodded calmly. Did he ever make a movement that wasn't slow?

'Your guess is correct, Aderyn. You are part bird, no matter what shape you take. And you will age faster than other people – as fast as a bird ages. Yet you are not saddened by this as much as may be expected.'

I met his eyes. He could read people as easily as I could read a book. I answered truthfully – if I lied, he would know.

'I don't want to be left in this world without Tristan, Merlin. If he dies… well, I don't want to imagine life without him.'

He nodded, dark eyes unreadable. 'If it is any comfort, your time on this world without Tristan will not be long.'

It was somewhat chilling, to hear Merlin talk of my death – and Tristan's – with such composure and so little compassion. I nodded.

'It is – in a kind of cold way.'

Merlin nodded once. 'The only way to prevent this sudden aging is by staying as a human. If you don't take hawk shape, you won't age like one.'

I sighed, weary beyond measure. I just wanted life to be simple – what had happened to the days when all I had to worry about were school and Ebony?

I had thrown them away when I decided to stay with Tristan. And I would stay with Tristan – even if it meant not taking bird shape. I could do that for him.

'Thank you, Merlin,' I said, meaning every word. 'If there is anything I can pay you with-'

He shook his head once. 'You have been given a hard path by the gods, young hawk. I will do all I can to help, but your life won't be easy. I wish you good fortune.'

I knew a dismissal when I heard one. I bowed my head, stood and left – but I'm sure I heard him say something as I went out.

'Your life _has_ been hard, but the end is near – and perhaps that is the greatest fortune of all.'

What did he mean? Was my death near? And why would my death be fortunate?


	19. Chapter 19

first, thank you to my wonderful reviewers! without you all i never would have got this far.

sorry x 100 for not updating for so long, but I've had the worst possible case of writer's block combined with mega homework. At least I'm on holidays now (because of the commonwealth games behind held here in Melbourne) so I'll have more time to write.

This is the second last chapter, and i'm sorry it's so raw but i wanted to get it up. a word of caution - have the tissues ready...

* * *

Merlin's words haunted me for a long time after that. About three months passed after I had visited him – but I didn't mark the days, which flew by in a blur.

I decided not to take the shape of a hawk again, and Tristan didn't ask me why. He understood that we both had secrets.

We had become lovers by now – after all, I was close to his age now and there was no reason why I shouldn't. But we never talked of marriage – to me, it was still a far distant dream and I wasn't sure that Tristan could ever settle down like a husband was supposed to.

We were happy, and I was happier than I ever had been before in my life. But Merlin's words still echoed in my dreams, and our joyful time was drawing to a close.

* * *

There was nothing about the day to suggest that it would the turning point in my life. It was raining – it usually was – and Arthur had received word of some bandits living in a nearby forest, stealing from villagers.

And so, of course, he and his knights rode out. I was no more worried than usual over Tristan – although I feared for him, I knew that he could take care of himself.

I watched from the wall as he rode off, wishing that I could go with him. Instead I helped Vanora replenish the stock of ale in her tavern. It was morning when they left, midday when I started to get restless.

I don't know why, but I just couldn't settle down. My chest felt tight and my heart was beating faster than usual. I stalked around the fort five times, jittery for no reason that I could name. Vanora found me as I stared out from the wall in the direction the knights had gone.

'What's wrong, love?' she asked softly, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.

I sighed and shrugged. 'I don't know. But I'm worried.'

Vanora was silent for a second. 'Why don't you go after him?' she suggested gently. 'Make sure they're okay. You'll just make yourself sick worrying otherwise.'

I was torn, wanting to go but bound by the promise I had made. I had sworn that I wouldn't fly again, wouldn't risk the years I had left with Tristan…

But then, he might be in danger. Or he might not – it might just be me overreacting to nothing. I could take a horse and ride after them; I wouldn't be breaking my promise and I could make sure he was alright.

'Well?' Vanora prompted.

I thought through my options. I could stay here, I could ride out or I could fly. I made my decision.

'Screw it,' I snarled.

Vanora raised an eyebrow and stood back as I changed. When my empty dress fell to the ground, she picked it up and looked down at me.

'I'll see you when you get back,' she said. 'Be careful, Aderyn.'

I took off, my wings clumsy in the air after three months in human shape. I was a little rusty – but it came back, and soon I was flying as fast as I could towards the forest where they had been heading.

I got there soon enough, but had to slow my wild pace as I dived down through the trees. Branches tore at my wings, but I didn't stop until I saw them.

They were among the trees, walking slowly. I counted them – Tristan wasn't there. He must be scouting. I turned to fly ahead, but at that moment Dagonet glanced up and saw me.

'Aderyn!' he called. 'Is that you?'

I couldn't fly on and ignore them, so I dived lower and landed on the arm he held out for me. He looked more closely at me, and noticed my agitated state.

'What's wrong?' he asked, concerned as he pulled his horse to a halt. Arthur and the others clustered around, watching me.

I screeched and flapped my wings a few times, trying to tell them that I needed to fly on. Arthur got my meaning before the others.

'You want to fly after Tristan?' he asked.

I nodded my head, keeping my wings spread to help balance. Arthur nodded, although he still looked a little confused.

'You don't have to worry Aderyn, he's fine. He's up the path, scouting.'

I didn't wait for anything else. I took off, flying as fast as I could up the path – which wasn't a great speed. I had to be careful, and therefore slow, to avoid the branches and leaves.

At last I caught up. He heard me and turned in his saddle, surprised by my sudden appearance. I landed on the arm he held out for me, and he looked worried as he held me up.

'What's wrong?' he asked urgently.

I shook my head, relief coursing through me. He was alright – my over active imagination had provided far too many pictures of Tristan's body, bloody and lifeless, sprawled on the ground with a blade through his chest.

He ran a gentle hand down my back – and it was at that moment that I saw the arrow.

Even as I heard the bowstring snap back I took off with a screech. It was an instinctive reflex really, to fly – but it cost me dearly. It wasn't me that was hit – it was Tristan.

There was the awful sound of steel punching through armour and into his skin. The only noise that escaped Tristan's throat was a kind of grunting gasp of something between anger and surprise.

I looked down and saw him sway in the saddle, the arrow in his ribs. Another followed the first, higher up this time. Tristan's horse, suddenly without guidance, snorted and swung around almost throwing the knight from the saddle.

Without even noticing that I did it, I opened my beak and _screamed_. It was a sound so loud that it tore at my throat and one of the bandits clapped his hands to his ears.

I dived, singling out the bandit who had shot Tristan. My claws found his face, and I drove my sharp beak into his eye. I felt revulsion well up even as I did it again before taking off.

The man thrashed around and screamed, blood streaming from his ruined eye. I could taste his blood in my mouth, and wanted to throw up. But I forced myself to watch as Tristan drew his sword – but I could see how his strength was deserting him, leaving his sword hanging limply by his side as he struggled to stay upright in the saddle.

I had to get Arthur, but I didn't want to leave Tristan as more bandits jumped out of the bush. I made a split second decision, even though I knew that I would regret it for the rest of my life.

I turned and flew as fast as I could. I flew faster than I ever had before, even though I repeatedly caught my wings on branches as I fled through the forest.

Arthur stared as I approached. I screeched loudly, wheeled around and went back the way I had come. The sound of galloping horses wasn't far behind when I made it back to Tristan.

At least three of the bandits were dead, but more were fighting Tristan who was obviously weakening badly. Blood soaked his clothes and ran in rivulets down his grey stallion's shoulder.

The knights roared and drew their swords, but I saw a flicker of disbelief cross Arthur's face. He had, like the rest of us, come to believe that Tristan was invincible and would never be beaten. The contradiction was right before his eyes.

I hovered above them all, not quite sure that this was happening. Tristan couldn't be dying. He would live, he would pull through… but then Merlin's words came back to me.

_Your life has been hard, but the end is near… your time on this world without Tristan will not be long…_ No, I thought desperately. Not now. Please, not now. Don't let him die, don't let him die…

But I couldn't ignore the truth. I dived down, helping him as much as I could. The men weren't expecting an aerial attack, and certainly weren't expecting a hawk to become so angry as to recklessly go for their eyes and throats. Several lost eyes, and were left screaming in pain until their life was ended by a blade.

It was bloody, disgusting work. It wasn't like a movie – there was no music, no sound effects, nothing to mask the horrible sounds of death and pain. The only thing that kept me diving in and gouging eyes was my love for Tristan. I wouldn't let him die without fighting myself.

I was exhausted by the time the battle was finished. There had been many more than originally thought – the price for the mistake was huge.

Tristan collapsed and fell from the saddle even as I landed. I didn't have the strength to turn back into my human shape, so I walked over to stand beside his head. His eyes flickered open as my shadow fell over his face.

'Aderyn,' he whispered.

Blood was thick in his mouth. After so long with the knights, I had learnt a little of wounds. I knew that blood in the mouth meant a pricked lung – and that meant death. Tristan, my knight, was to die this afternoon. The carefree early morning seemed a lifetime away.

'I'm sorry.'

I shook my head, wishing I could talk. It was my fault – I had distracted Tristan at the worst possible moment. If I hadn't been there, if his attention hadn't been on me, he would have noticed the bandits. He would be fine, not lying on the ground dying. He seemed to realise what I was thinking.

'No, girl, it's not your fault. Don't think that it is.' Tristan's voice was weak, his breathing harsh and ragged. There was a horrible bubbling noise as he breathed – his own blood was choking him now.

I made a low noise in my throat, the equivalent of crying. He looked at me, his dark eyes holding mine.

'I wish,' he said slowly. 'I wish I had learnt your old name…' he coughed, the blood coming faster now. He knew he was dying, that it would be over soon. 'But I never will.'

I tried so hard then to turn back into a human, but I just couldn't. There was no way that I could in my state of near exhaustion. Bitterly I wanted to cry, but a bird cannot. I was trapped in my hawk form in a way I never had been before.

'I love you. Always have, and always will.'

I wanted to reply, but I never got the chance. He died then, his eyes flickering shut. Those eyes that had held me captivated so many times before were dimmed forever.

I nudged his cheek. He didn't move. I called to him, a low sound that I had never used before. He didn't stir, and it finally hit me.

Tristan was gone.

Arthur came up beside me and knelt down. He reached out a hand towards me, but I snapped at him and took off. My wings were tired and sore, but none of that mattered. All I knew was that he was gone.

I circled once over him, then flew away.

I only managed a few minutes of laborious flight before exhaustion set in. I landed badly on a branch of a tall tree, so tired that my emotions were numb.

All I could think of was Tristan – dead. How could I ever live in this word without him? The gap left in me by his death was just too big to ever be filled.

Even as I slipped into an exhausted sleep I knew the answer; I couldn't live without him. Tristan was dead, and I knew I would follow him soon enough.

* * *

once again, sorry this chapter was so rough. please review, and i'll get the last one up asap.


	20. Final Chapter

At last: the final chapter! it's funny to think that when I started this fic I didn't think anyone would be interested in it or that I would ever finish it - but here we are. Sorry, this is rather sad - I seem to end just about every story with tears. shakes head Hope you all aren't too upset.

Also, the last line is very similar to the one in "Golden Prince" by Ken Catran - and to anyone who likes to read Troy stories, I definitely recomend it. It's a great book, and the line seemed perfect for the ending. I must apologise for this chapter - it's sill pretty raw, and I'm not really happy with it, but I didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer.

A HUGE thank you to EVERYONE who read and especially those who reviewed - also to the 26 people who have this story on their fav list, thank you very much! Here are my fantastic reviewers, in no particular order:

June Birdie, aquamum, Priestess of the Myrmidon, LANCELOTTRISTANBABY, Crafty, demongirl04, Readerfreak10, faeriesTrulyExist, Luckylily, Plutobaby494, KnightMaiden, MedievalWarriorPrincess, aragornsgirll, Jenni, JessipurrMalfoy, Daughter Of Athena, butterflykisses71, Lady Dream Weaver, the sarahnater, Ancalime, Scouter, Black Knight 63, Nilmelwen, Sunniva, dw, Shanua, Some Crazy Lady, Ohio-isn'tfor-lovers, SK-1, Lady Marek, TreetopScout, lilshelly, Evenstar-mor2004, Chait, Elodie, SaraB, heavenlysky, bamameg, JennyRen, Jaded-Chaela, gitana dragon, Makayla and Quinn.

Your choice of knight with icecream and chocolate topping:P And to anybody I missed, deepest apologies, thanks for reading and reviewing!

That said, I'll shut up now and let you get on with the story, please review at the end!

Thank you all very much.

* * *

I flew back to the fort in the pale dawn of the next day. The sky was touched with purple and yellow as the sun rose – it seemed unfair to Tristan that the new day could bring such beauty when he was no longer alive to witness it.

I landed first in the forest beside a stream. I drank the cool water, my grief a physical ache in my chest. On an impulse I changed back into my human shape, wondering if I had changed at all from my time as a hawk.

I looked at my reflection in the water and stared. I glanced behind me, but there was no one there. It really _was _my reflection on the surface of the water. But I hardly recognised myself.

I looked terrible. My hair, once reddish brown, was mostly grey with streaks of white. My face was lined and withered, my cheeks hollow and my eyes sunken.

My hands were lined with veins and shook ever so slightly. My skin used to be a tanned brown – now it was white and papery, dry and thin. Only my eyes, still green and brown, were unchanged – but they were dimmer than I remembered. I was old.

As I realised what had happened, I became aware of my body aching and stiff. So this is what it's like to be old. My knees were stiff and cracked alarmingly as I stood up. My back was sore and I couldn't twist properly. Walking was as hard as climbing up a wall and I didn't even dare trying to run. If I did, I'd probably break an ankle.

I sat down on the grass beside the stream in an undignified heap. I was old, old and dying. I could feel the erratic beating of my weakened heart and my lungs didn't seem to hold air as well as they once did. Only a few years ago I had been fourteen. My body may have been old, but my mind wasn't. Like the young girl I had been I started crying at the unfairness of it all.

It just didn't seem right – Tristan dead, myself old and withered when I should have been no more than sixteen years old. I suddenly wondered if the pain in my chest was just grief or whether my heart was giving out. It was a chilling thought.

I glanced once more at my human reflection and winced as I transformed back to a hawk. I didn't want to see the pathetic, old creature I had become. Suddenly twenty-four didn't seem that old.

As a hawk Ilooked againat my reflection. Even as a bird there were changes. My feathers, once thick and glossy, had lost a little of their sheen and colour. My eyes were faded and sunken, and my beak was worn down. I was old.

I took off, wanting to get away from the awful truth. I was old and near to death – I was suddenly glad that Tristan wasn't here to see what I had become.

* * *

Flying was harder than it had been yesterday. I couldn't fly as fast or as high as I used to, and it taxed my strength to fly even the short distance to the tavern where Vanora was.

The knights had returned – that was evident from the subdued atmosphere and the drunk, miserable knights slumped at a table in the tavern. Vanora was sitting beside Bors, her head laid against his chest in a comforting gesture. She looked up as I landed beside her.

'Aderyn,' she said, and I felt my grief twinge again in my chest. Tristan would never call me that again, and he would never learn my real name. Somehow that small thing seemed of the greatest importance. Something that I had failed at.

'I'm sorry,' Vanora whispered, tears making fresh tracks down her face. 'I know how little those words mean. But truly I am.'

I keened softly, low in my throat. Lancelot stirred from where he had been resting his head on his hand, and looked up.

'I didn't think you'd return,' he said sluggishly.

That showed just how much he had drunk. I had never met anyone before who could drink so much and be so unaffected by it. The fact that his speech was impaired told me more than the many bottles that littered the table.

'He's gone,' Galahad said blankly, his voice slightly muffled as he rested his head on his folded arms. 'He was the best of us all, yet he was killed.'

Grief threatened to engulf me. It had been _me _who had distracted him at that crucial moment – _I _had taken his attention away from his surroundings. If not for me, he would have noticed the archer before the arrow took him.

It was at that moment that Arthur entered. His grief was a shadow on his face, and I knew that it was an echo of my own. He had lost yet another knight; another friend had given their life for him. His eyes were haunted as he stood at the head of the table.

'Knights,' he said, as he so often had before.

He stopped as they all looked up at him. Bors, his eyes glazed with both the pain of Tristan's death and the remembered agony of when Dagonet died. His eyes flicked over them all and rested on me.

'Tristan is to be buried this afternoon.'

The knights all nodded, but I felt their already sunken spirits fall lower at those words. Somehow burial made it complete, irreversible. I shook my head and gave a loud call. Arthur glanced at me questioningly.

There was no way that I would transform into my human shape in front of the knights now. I wouldn't let them see me in my old, weakened state. To convey my meaning, I snapped at a candle on that table that was lit.

'Fire?' Arthur said slowly. 'You want Tristan to be burnt?'

I nodded. Burning would free him completely from this world. Perhaps then it would be easier for me to accept his death. Arthur looked at the other knights, who looked at me and then nodded.

'It's fitting,' Gawain said slowly, drunkenly.

Arthur nodded. 'Then he shall be burnt. At sunset today.'

He turned abruptly away, before the knights could see the pain on his face. I saw, however, and knew that he shared my white-hot grief and pain that nothing could extinguish.

I didn't stay with the knights any longer. It took a supreme effort to get myself off the table, and I know that Vanora gave me a very concerned look as I laboured to get into the air.

I flew slowly out of the fort and over the field where I had so often hunted for Tristan. Suddenly my body seemed too heavy for me to be able to hold up. It was the thermals that saved me, the currents of air that allowed me to drift gently down into the trees instead of falling like a stone.

I had almost no strength left – hazily I wondered what it would be like to die a second time. I had died once already, when that tree fell on me – but this was different. This time I wouldn't be going on to a new life in a new world – or would I? Perhaps there was more to death than there appeared.

I wouldn't know until I died. If how I felt was any judge, I wouldn't have to wait for long. My heart was unsteady in its beating, and I struggled to gain enough air. I glanced up at the sun – It was almost midday. I had hours to wait before sunset. It seemed an eternity to wait before I saw him again.

* * *

The smoke rose into the pale sky streaked with orange. Not many were gathered in the cemetery to pay their last respects to the strangest, quietest of the knights. I watched as each of the knights said their last farewells.

I hovered over the fire, trusting to the air to hold me aloft. My strength was almost gone, my heart was aching as it strove to keep going. I felt worn out, as if I had run a thousand miles in only a few hours. I was tired, so tired that sleep hovered just out of reach. But it was not sleep, only death.

Tristan's sword was planted at the top of where the mound would be – but instead of buried under heaped earth, his body was being consumed by fire. The smoke dispersed as it rose, blowing away in wisps.

All around me, I was conscious of everything. Of the wind blowing above me, of the beautiful land below me. Of the warmth of the sun, the cool touch of the air. My thoughts were strangely disjointed, and the ache in my chest was a constant thing. I wasn't sure if it was from grief or exhaustion – the latter seemed the more likely.

I saw Arthur kneel down at the side of the fire. He bent his head low, whispered something, then stood and stepped back with a bowed head. Everything was becoming sharper, the colours too bright and everything just too overwhelming. Black pulled at the edges of my sight, but I fought it back.

I swooped down over the fire, letting the body of a rabbit fall from my claws. The result of my last hunt – my hunt for Tristan. It took everything I had to rise back into the air.

I floated just over the fire, the heat wafting up in waves as the air held me up. Gawain glanced up at me, and Vanora looked worried as I dropped a little in the air.

Suddenly I realised how silent the world was. I could hear nothing but my own harsh breathing – not the crackle of the flames, the crying of Vanora's youngest child or the sound of the wind amongst the trees. I felt myself drop lower in the air. My times almost up.

I thought back to the first time that I had met Tristan. My thoughts touched briefly on my family and friends, but their memory was hazy. The clearest among them was Ebony – and I suddenly wondered how she was, and whether she had managed to find her way home from the forest. She was a good horse, one of best I had ever known. I loved her, and truly hoped she was fine.

I started to lose vision. I felt my wings grow weaker until I could no longer stay in the air. I fell through the air, the air that had so often held me up now letting me go. My last sight was of the sky, tinged pink and orange, with the smoke from Tristan's body rising into the heavens.

Then my world went black as I felt the sudden searing heat hit my feathers as I fell to my death. It seemed fitting that I, too, should burn with Tristan. Pain was distant and dull, hardly touching my thoughts at all. I knew this was my death, but I wasn't afraid. I knew it was time.

I could still remember that day when I flew above them - the knights and Arthur on Badon Hill, ready to fight and die for what they believed in. Tristan had loved me, and he had known I had loved him in return. He would be waiting for me, waiting for me to catch up. Together we would go into the second life, and we would never again be separated.

It was a good thought to hold as the darkness drifted over me.


End file.
